


Wait and Hope

by TangentialMango



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Developing Friendships, Misunderstandings, Multi, Unrequited Crush, finding one's place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4757840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TangentialMango/pseuds/TangentialMango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ziyal’s first months on Deep Space Nine aren’t easy. Thankfully, she's found a friend in Kira. She might have one more friend too - if she can clear things up between herself and the only other Cardassian on the station.</p><p>Filling in the gap between "Return to Grace" and "For the Cause."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few lines are direct quotes from the end of 4x14, "Return to Grace."

Watching her father's bird-of-prey turn towards open space and cloak, Ziyal mused that this parting was not as sad as it might have been. She would miss him terribly, of course, but she knew she'd see him again, and soon. Sooner than the six years they'd just spent apart anyway, which tended to put things into perspective.

“Come,” Kira put an arm around her shoulders, “I'll show you to your quarters.”

Before they could go any farther, they were approached by a man dressed in beige from head to toe. “Welcome back, Major.”

“Odo, this is Tora Ziyal.”

“Gul Dukat's daughter,” he replied.

She remembered now; the shapeshifting Chief of Security had worked here when her father was in charge and was now also one of Nerys’s friends. She offered him a nod.

“She's going to be living here on the station with us for a while,” Nerys explained.

“Ah,” he gave Nerys a look, making only the barest attempt to hide his curiosity.

Nerys returned the look, and promised, “I'll tell you all about it,” before they continued on their way.

“I certainly hope so,” she heard him mutter to himself.

Kira decided to walk her around the promenade first and point out places along the way. Over there was Quark’s, the Temple was up here on the right, the replimat was a little further up, and if she took the turbolift here, she’d eventually end up in Ops.

She was struck by how active the place seemed. It didn't compare to the short time she spent in the Cardassian capitol, but the Groumall only had a crew is about thirty-five. "Is it always this busy?"

“At this time of day, yeah. The day shift is ending, and there's the dinner rush. But parts of this station never sleep. It's a pretty important hub. Lots of people pass through if they have business on Bajor or are making their way to or from the Gamma quadrant. C’mon, I want to show you the security office. It’s on the way, and there’s a few friends there I want you to meet. If anything goes wrong and you can’t get ahold of Odo or me, I want you to know where to get help.”

A minute later, Ziyal was being shown off to some of Kira's colleagues. Most were doing rounds, but Kira introduced her to Seelee and Latara, members of the station's Bajoran security force. She could see they were uneasy: Seelee wore an expression of irritated confusion while Latara began nervously fidgeting with her earring.

Latara quickly came to her senses, however, and stepped forward to introduce herself, “What brings you to the station?”

"I was on Cardassia for a while, but things haven’t been going so well over there, what with the war and all. My only family is out fighting. Nerys invited me to stay here until things cool down.”

Seelee’s head snapped towards Kira, “Major, she wouldn’t happen to be Dukat’s estranged daughter you told us about, would she?”

The temperature in the room dropped. Even Latara seemed taken aback by such blatant rudeness.

“Yes, Seelee, she is." Kira spoke in measured tones, "And I trust that you’ll show her the same courtesy you would show any of our guests.”

Latara offered Ziyal a smile that, to her credit, was only partly forced. “It’s nice to meet you Ziyal.”

Kira's eyes never left Seelee. “Ziyal, would you step outside for a moment? I want to have a word with Deputy Seelee.”

Ziyal excused herself and leaned up against the wall beside the door. It looked like she would be about as welcome here as she was on Cardassia. In the few minutes she spent waiting for Kira to finish with Seelee, Ziyal felt the eyes of Bajoran personnel moving over her as they walked past. She wished she could chalk it up to curiosity, but their gazes felt far more accusatory than that. When it eventually did get around that she was the daughter of the Prefect of Bajor, the face of the occupation for generations -

“Sorry about that. Seelee doesn’t know when to shut her mouth sometimes.” Kira must have caught the melancholy look on her face, because her expression softened. “Look, I know this can't be easy for you, but there are good people here. Once they spend a little time with you, I know they’ll come around.”

She gave Kira a smile, but said nothing. She was touched by her generosity, but Ziyal was fully aware of what she was in for. The time she would spend waiting for people to "come around" wasn't going to be pleasant.

As if reading her mind, Nerys added, “And until they do, you know you’ve got me. So, let’s get you settled in.”

Now her smile was genuine. In spite of how little time they’d spent together, she could already tell that Nerys, for whatever reason, accepted her entirely. She didn’t expect her to “prove” how Bajoran she was. She didn’t even pressure her to denounce her father even though she disliked him, to put it mildly. Funnily enough, Nerys and her father were the only two people who didn’t make her feel like she was walking on eggshells.

Kira keyed open the door and showed her inside. The structure of the room was certainly Cardassian, but a few of the furnishings were Federation-issue, and the room had a smattering of Bajoran decorations. An odd mixture for sure, but not unpleasantly so. Spotting one item in particular, she asked, “Did you add the prayer mandala, or do those come standard in all rooms?”

Kira grinned, “I thought you might appreciate it. I know you were with other Bajorans in the mines, but you must not have had any comforts from home. I called in a favor when we were still on the bird-of-prey."

She appreciated the gesture, even if her personal feelings about the Prophets were decidedly mixed. “Thank you so much."

“I think I’ve set you up with everything you need for right now. There’s plenty more to learn about the station, but that can wait till tomorrow. Is there anything you need right now? Or anything you want to talk about?”

“I can’t think of anything right now. Honestly, I think I just want to settle in. Between attacking a Klingon ship and uprooting my life, I think I’ve earned a good night’s sleep.”

“You've got that right. I’ll let you get to it then. Why don’t we get breakfast tomorrow? I’ll meet you here at 0900, and we can spend a few hours before I’m on duty showing you around a little more.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’ll see you then, Nerys.”

Kira made her way to the door, said goodnight, and was gone. Ziyal’s cheerful mood seemed to go with her and the sense of isolation crept back in. Nerys might be right; if people here were half as kind as Nerys was, she could probably make a few friends. But it was going to be an uphill battle. It was always an uphill battle. Instead of seeing the side that they had in common, people always saw the “other.” An outsider that they suspected at best and despised at worst.

Then there was her father to complicate things. While he always treated her with the utmost kindness, she knew he was not held in high regard around here. The few Bajorans who might otherwise be willing to give a Cardassian a chance would be less open minded when it came to a relative of the former Prefect. She imagined she'd get a similar reaction from Federation officers too, as they sided with Bajor, politically.

It hadn't been any better on Cardassia, really. Everyone there knew she was the reason her father was demoted. His former political rivals were now his superiors, and she was the focus of their jokes and derision. Then she’d followed her father onto the Groumall. The crew there knew better than to insult the daughter of their commanding officer, but that simply led to them avoiding her as much as they could. It was cold.

And here she was, starting over again. New faces with fresh prejudices. Her father was possibly the one person Bajorans hated the most, and she’d have to overcome that. She wasn’t looking forward to the coming weeks at all.

 _Ugh! Enough of that_ , she thought. She was focusing on the negatives, as she tended to do when she was overtired. Best to sleep now and face the challenges of her new living arrangement when she was well-rested.

 

***

 

Garak stood in line at the replimat. Alone, as usual.

He was usually much better than this. The weight of his isolation was something he could normally manage. After all, if he had been unable to keep himself from sinking into despair, he wouldn't have lived this long.

But much time had passed since the incident in the holosuite. The Doctor had shot him and threatened to do worse, all for entirely valid reasons, of course. There was nothing personal about it. Indeed, rather than take offense Garak was impressed at the Doctor's willingness to face reality and make sacrifices. He thought they had reached an understanding. The Doctor had gained a brief glimpse into the true nature of life beyond the Federation's idealistic dogma - the sort of life that he himself had lived. They should be able to move forward now, should they not?

Yet, he could only conclude that the Doctor was avoiding him. Their lunches had evaporated in a flurry of excuses about outbreaks and accidents. He couldn't even manage to get further than an exchange of pleasantries before the Doctor brought up something more important he had to attend to. In spite of the sudden deterioration of the health of every being on the station, he couldn’t help but notice that the Doctor had found the time for his holosuite adventures with the Chief and the occasional date with Leeta.

He let out a silent huff. The line moved forward, and he intentionally left an extra step between himself and the person in front of him.

He supposed that the Doctor, having faced reality, didn’t like what he saw. He wouldn’t be surprised if the Doctor was struggling with his own conscience weeks later. Or perhaps it had finally sunk in that Garak had done similar things on a somewhat regular basis. Or that Garak expressed no remorse for these actions. Probably all three.

It all amounted to the same thing. Retrieving his meal from the replicator and settling at his solitary table, it became clear that he needed a distraction.

 

***

 

Tired as Ziyal was, a good night’s rest was not meant to be as she woke up two hours later, unable to get back to sleep. She went over to the replicator and got herself some tea.

 _Yes,_ she thought, _I am going to have a rough time here, but it isn't as though the really hard parts have started yet._ The station was mostly occupied by Bajorans and Federation citizens, and no, most of them would never give her a chance. But there were other people here; Kira had said there were lots of travelers passing through. Who’s to say she couldn’t spend some time in the company of people who weren’t here to stay, who might be more open minded about a half-Bajoran, half-Cardassian girl? Who’s to say she had to tell them precisely who she was? Who’s to say she couldn’t just have _fun_?

She wanted to relax. If she couldn’t sleep, this seemed like the next best thing. She’d make some friends, even if those friendships only lasted one evening. She made herself presentable and left, abandoning her half-finished tea.

Following the same route that had taken her to her quarters earlier, she made her way out to the docking ring. It was much less busy than it had been on her previous pass through, and the walk was pleasant enough.

As she expected, the docking ring was peppered every so often with a tiny restaurant or bar. The sorts of places where one would spend time if they only had a few hours on the station and didn’t need accommodations for the night. There were many Ferengi around, which made sense when she thought about it. Just as she’d hoped, there were fewer Bajorans, and therefore more people who might not take umbrage at her presence.

She chose one of the busier locations and sat down among the patrons there where she could overhear conversations and try to start one up herself. She realized that some of the little groupings were regulars here. On her left, a pair of Ferengi were negotiating some deal together. As fascinating as she found the way they did business, there wasn't any room for her in that conversation.

However, on her right were a group of freighter captains. A Lissepian woman was updating the others about a mutual friend who had gotten caught in an ion storm and barely made it out alive.

"She got thrown around in the turbulence and fractured her skull on the bulkhead. She's patched up pretty well now, but it's going to be a few weeks before her ship is in working order again."

"How's she dealing with the downtime?"

"You know how she hates waiting, she'll probably have a stroke before the repairs are finished."

They chuckled knowingly about their friend, and Ziyal saw her opening: "Are ion storms that severe common? I haven't done a lot of traveling."

A Bolian man responded, "That depends on where you're headed?"

"Risa,” she answered quickly. _That’s a common vacation destination, isn’t it?_ she thought. “Some friends and I are on a break between semesters at our university, so we thought we’d take a trip. I haven't left Bajor much, and this will be the farthest out I've ever traveled."

"You might run into a small storm on your trip, but I doubt you'll see anything that extreme. Most captains only even hear about something like that once a decade."

Another man spoke up, this one human. "You and your friends have fun on Risa, but you keep your noses clean."

"Somebody should have told that to you twenty years ago," the Bolian said.

The human feigned ignorance, "Dunno what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't, you blacked out for most of it!"

The conversation meandered this way and that, with questions about her supposed trip punctuated with elaborate stories that seemed to be at someone's expense, but were really a form of endearment. Ziyal didn’t have much to add, but was happy to be included.

 

***

 

Several hours after dinner, Garak made his way to the docking ring of the station. When the need to socialize threatened to overwhelm him and the few residents who were willing to engage with him were unavailable, he’d seek out the less permanent residents. People making their way from one end of the galaxy to the other, many them having no allegiance to the major powers in the quadrant. Transients who, never expecting to see him again, would be willing to spend an evening chatting with the station’s tailor, even if he was a Cardassian.

True, he rarely found anyone there with whom he could discuss the finer points of literature, but he was usually able to find someone willing to talk to him, or at least amusing enough to annoy. On a station otherwise filled with hostile Bajorans and wary Federation citizens, he’d take conversation where he could get it. And it was always a welcome surprise when he found an intellectual among the more simplistic travelers.

Rounding the corner and entering the bar, he saw the usual crowd getting together and reliving their glory days, but there was someone there who wasn’t a regular at all. A young woman with scaled features in Cardassian dress. But not entirely Cardassian, it seemed. Certainly not the sort of person one came across every day, and therefore, someone whose presence on the station was worth learning more about. An investigation was just as good of a distraction as any other interaction.

 

***

 

Ziyal would have gladly stayed chatting with the freighter captains all night, but after a short hour, the group broke up. The Bolian had to get on his way or risk being late with his shipment, and the others had business to attend to before retiring for the night.

"You turning in, too?" the Bolian asked.

"I probably will once I finish my drink."

"Well, take care of yourself. You and your friends stay safe on Risa. Don’t let your studies suffer."

"Don't worry, we’ll be careful. Good night."

And with that she turned back to her drink, her mood much improved from a few hours ago. While the eyes of these friendly strangers had flickered over her features, none commented on them. It was just what she had been hoping for.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your travel plans. I take it you’ve never been to Risa before?”

Ziyal started at the voice, the owner of whom was in close proximity. She hadn’t heard anyone approach the seat next to her at the bar, but it was most certainly occupied now. To her left was a Cardassian man, smiling brightly.

“No, I’ve never been.”

“Then I can tell you that you have a lot to look forward to. I had the pleasure of visiting some time ago, though sadly much of my time was spent dealing with business matters. I did manage to find the time to visit the bioluminescent gardens, and I highly recommend them.” She had expected that he would have noticed her nose ridges by now and attempted to excuse himself, but he seemed to be intent on continuing the conversation, smile firmly in place. “But I imagine you and your young friends are more likely to spend your evenings in the glow of a cavernous nightclub instead?”

His smile was infectious; disorienting as this unexpected conversation was, she had to return it. “This trip was pretty spontaneous. We don’t have any particular plan once we get there, but I imagine we’ll visit a nightclub at some point.”

“You should do and see all you can while you’re there, it’s not often that Cardassian citizens have the chance to take a holiday on Federation planets. Tell me, how did you manage to arrange such a trip?”

“Since I’m a Bajoran citizen rather than Cardassian, it wasn’t very difficult at all.”

“How careless of me. I hope you’ll pardon my assumption. I did notice your charming nose, of course, but I’m always hopeful when I meet someone who might bring some news of Cardassia to this dreary station with them. Do I take it that you have no association with the Cardassian side of your family?”

“No, I've spent my whole life on Bajor." It was best to pretend she knew nothing about Cardassia. Talking about her recent visit there without mentioning her father would prove tricky. Attempting a diversion, she said, “It sounds like you don’t get to go home much.”

“Far less than I’d like to, I’m afraid, and as time passes I find myself missing it more and more. But I've carved out a niche for myself here with my occupation as the focal point. I don't think I could leave now if I wanted to."

"What is it that you do?"

"I'm the station's resident tailor." This wasn't the answer she expected, and she must have made a face because he went on, "You don't believe me? I assure you my situation is no laughing matter. My clients are very particular. If I merely entertained the idea of leaving, I'm certain they'd hunt me down."

And now she actually was laughing at his mock gravity, and he reverted back to his pleasant expression. Once she had recovered, he continued, "Forgive me, I seem to have overlooked the most basic element of polite conversation and forgotten to introduce myself. You can call me Garak."

"I'm Ziyal, nice to meet you."

It occurred to her that, rather than sharing a false life with someone she wouldn’t see again, she was lying to someone who lived on the station and would discover the truth in the coming days or weeks. This only troubled her for a moment, however. Whatever would happen would happen. She was determined to see the evening through.

This situation had taken on a surreal irresistibility too. It was bizarre enough to hear a Cardassian to speak of her Bajoran qualities as "charming." And his mannerisms were very personal; she felt as if she had his full and undivided attention. The convivial nature of his speech and body language seemed to indicate that he relished every syllable spoken between them.

A small questioning voice at the back of her mind wondered if it was possible that she was being hit on, but she dismissed that thought as soon as it occurred. _You’re imagining things_ , she told herself, _you’re so undersocialized that you’re seeing things that aren’t there._

Surreal or not, the conversation itself was delightful. It was the longest she’d talked to any one person since the mines, excluding her father and Kira. They shared thoughts on the Klingon-Cardassian war, the Federation’s involvement with Bajor and the station, and the threats posed by the Dominion. He asked her more about her studies at the University, and she made up a few more details as best she could. Recently she’d come across a book of Bajoran poetry in her father’s collection, and so they talked of that for a while. Without having to fake ignorance, she asked him about Cardassia. The short month she spent on Prime with her father had her acting more like a tourist than as someone who belonged there. She took the opportunity to ask him about the historical context of a few of the monuments she’d seen, limiting herself to those spectacular enough that outsiders might have heard of them.

Eventually, the bar began to close down in the early hours of the morning, and they were forced to leave. Not wanting the evening to come to a close, she asked him to walk her back to her quarters. To think, she'd gone out tonight hoping to hit it off with someone who would be leaving. She had an opportunity here to form a lasting friendship with someone who would always be here, and she knew she should probably be honest with him, but her resolve wavered. Her father still might scare him off. She decided she would wait until the last possible moment to tell him, in the hope of both making a more memorable impression and to keep the evening's momentum going as long as possible.

Back down the corridors, they wound around the promenade to reach the habitat ring. A flash of pale blue light from the nearby window made her stop mid-sentence and stare at its source.

"Is that the wormhole?"

"Yes, living here one tends to forget about its purely aesthetic qualities and only think of it as a potential source of distress, courtesy of the Dominion. But it's quite lovely."

"It's breathtaking." For the longest time, beauty had not been a feature of her environment. There was nothing beautiful on Dozaria regarding either her surroundings or her situation. The portal swirling before her seemed to reignite some long-extinguished drive to seek out and enjoy things for their sheer visual appeal. But there was more to it than that. She realized, suddenly, that she might have an idea of how she would be spending her near-limitless free time on the station.

Having granted passage to the approaching ship, the wormhole closed and disappeared into nothingness. A hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present.

Ah. Maybe she wasn't imagining things? It wasn’t as if she had any “normal” dating experience, but this seemed like a rather forward gesture, coming from a Cardassian. Not that she was complaining.

"Let's continue, shall we?"

 "Yes, let's." She was now quite keen to see where this could go. He could probably sense the enthusiasm radiating from her, but she didn't care. She'd set out with the intention of having fun this evening and this still fit the description.

They continued to talk all the way to her quarters, but now she found herself reevaluating the polite chit-chat. At last, they reached her door. Before he could say another word, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with the force that only one starved of contact can muster.

For a moment, everything was perfect, and then a number of things happened at once. He broke the kiss and ducked out from under her arms, simultaneously turning her such that her back was to the door of her quarters and they stood apart. Panicking that she’d misread the cues and ruined everything, she looked away from his face, only to find a disruptor aimed at her middle. _What the-_

"Would you mind telling me who you really are?" His smile was still present, but had taken on a rather hollow quality.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"You tell me you'd never been to Cardassia while wearing a Cardassian dress. You claim to be a heading to Risa, but your quarters are nowhere near the block reserved for travelers who are merely passing through. For a Bajoran university student, you're remarkably well informed about the Cardassian conflict with the Klingons. I can only assume that you've been lying to me all evening and brought me here in an underwhelming assassination attempt, so I'd like to know who sent you."

She steadied her breath and maintained eye contact. This was hardly the first time she'd had stood at the receiving end of a weapon, but at least when the Breen threatened her and the other prisoners, she understood how she got there. _All he's asking for is information,_ she thought. _Try to give him what he wants. That always worked for the Breen._

"My name is Tora Ziyal. I spent most of the past six years in a Breen labor camp. I was rescued about five months ago by my father Gul Dukat and Kira Nerys." A hint of recognition played at his eyes. "I'm staying here now because it's not safe for me to stay with my father. I have no idea why you think I'm here to kill you."

An incredulous expression morphed into one of curious realization. Something in his posture changed. The disruptor stayed trained on her, but it now felt more like a formality than a tangible threat. "You know, this might actually be the best plan you father has ever come up with. It's not going to work of course, but I have to hand it to him."

Ziyal merely furrowed her brow.

"Well, if I see you again, I doubt you'll afford me such benevolence, so I'll thank you for a most pleasant evening and I’ll be on my way." Gesturing to the keypad, he indicated that she should open the door. "Now if you'll take a step backwards." She backed up and the door slid shut between them as he nodded goodbye.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. What a perfect disaster the last five minutes had been. And it was such a shame when everything else about the evening had been so wonderful. _No_ , she thought cynically, _I can't just have fun._

She made her way over to her bed wondering just what had happened. It was strange; once she'd said that she wasn't here to kill him, he'd relaxed, but he still seemed convinced that she was going to try, eventually. Why would she? Everything had gone so well, hurting him was the last thing on her mind. There must have been some sort of misunderstanding. She'd have to try to clear things up. She wasn't going to give up on a friendship with him. Not when he was one of those rare people who saw past her heritage and gave her a chance.

 

***

 

This was not the sort of distraction he had hoped for.

He'd known she was lying, of course. He'd expected it. That's one of the reasons people went to the bars at the docking ring: they had something to hide from the station's authorities. Perhaps he also should have suspected that she was Dukat's daughter sooner, but he didn't. He was too desperate to drive the Doctor from his mind, so he willed himself to ignorance and let himself get caught up in pleasant conversation.

Instead, he now had a far more complicated matter to deal with. Arriving back at his own quarters, it was time to assess the situation. He sat down at the terminal and began to pull up every bit of information he could find related to her. He couldn’t yet be certain, but if his suspicion was correct, Dukat hadn't expected her to succeed in killing him, but was instead planning something far more intricate.

 

***

 

"The time is 0900. You have one message waiting."

Ziyal awoke with a start, disoriented. Getting her bearings, she stumbled over to her computer. A simple text transmission was waiting for her from her father, clearly sent off as quickly as possible. It must have arrived just after she left for the docking ring. Only one line long, she imagined her father must have sent it as he was speeding away from the station.

He had sent it in Kardasi. She still wasn't reading it at an adult level, and there were a couple of words here she couldn't make out. She instructed the computer to translate it into Bajoran, which she felt much more confident with.

"Forgot to tell you, stay away from the tailor."

 _A little late for that_ , she thought groggily.

The sound of her door chiming made her jump. She really wasn't awake enough for all this. Still wearing yesterday’s clothes, she made her way to the door.

She opened her door and greeted Kira, who reacted appropriately.

"Are you okay? You look like you didn't sleep at all."

"I've been better. Can we eat here this morning?”

“Sure, that's a better fit for me anyway, I got called in early. Why don’t you just have a seat, I’ll get us something.”

Ziyal returned to the couch and a few moments later was joined by Kira, bearing some kava rolls.

“So what was the problem? Is it too cold in here for you? We can change that easily enough.”

“Actually, I was out for most of last night.”

“What, like wandering the station?”

“Yeah, kind of. I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk and ended up at one of the bars in the docking ring.”

“That’s...not really how I would have preferred for you to get to know the station. There are some really seedy types who hang out there. You should have just called me, I would have come over.”

“Thanks for that, but I didn’t want to bother you.” She paused to take a bite. “Anyways, I spent most of the night talking to this Cardassian man named Garak, and -”

Kira choked on her kava roll. Ziyal took the plate out of her hands so she could cough in earnest. Even through watering eyes, Nerys could pull off a glare. "What did he want from you?"

Ziyal had been debating with herself about whether to tell Nerys about the full details of the previous night. She trusted Nerys, and she might have some helpful advice, but she also didn't know her that well yet. In hindsight, she was also thoroughly embarrassed by how she threw herself at him. Considering Nerys's rather violent reaction upon hearing that they'd talked, she decided on discretion.

"Nothing, we just talked, and it was nice. But when I told him who my father was, he reacted pretty badly and then left. I know there are Cardassians who don't like my father, but it seemed a little dramatic, especially when things had been going so well."

"I'm not sure what else he said to you last night, but he might not have been overly dramatic about that part. From what I've gathered, Garak was somehow involved in your grandfather's death, and then your father tried to kill Garak back when he was in command here."

“Oh.” She felt only a mild sadness about the long-ago death of a family member she never met. One who would surely never have acknowledged her, just like the rest. Another reminder that she could never have the sort of family she “should” have. That thought was the one that really upset her. A hollow weight settled in the pit of her stomach.

Kira was focused on her breakfast and kept on. "Even without all that bad blood, you shouldn't spend time with Garak. He's a former agent of the Obsidian Order and you can't trust a single word that comes out of his mouth."

Ziyal said nothing. She really had hoped that they might clear things up, but the chances of that happening were only getting slimmer.

Kira finally looked up, "I'm really sorry about all of this, I wanted to start you off on the right foot here, and instead you're already getting bogged down in family drama beyond your control. I'm on duty in thirty minutes. What do you say that you take it easy here today, don't go anywhere without telling me first," she put special emphasis on that part, "and then we go do something fun tonight? Have you ever played springball?"

"No."

"Well I'll show you how to play."

"I think that sounds great."

"Alright," she took the last bite of her roll, and then started speaking through it, "I'll see you back here at 1800, but I gotta get to work. Quark managed to sell some idiots 'priority access to the wormhole,' and now they're raising hell."

She turned to leave, but the mention of the wormhole jogged Ziyal's memory from the previous night. "Nerys! I just remembered. Do you know where I could get some painting supplies?"

 

***

 

Hours later, he had as complete a profile on Ziyal as he could get.

When she had revealed her identity, he had initially assumed that Ziyal was there to assassinate him. Why else would Dukat send his daughter to a station where she’d be faced with a long-time family enemy? And naturally, Dukat’s overconfidence would blind him to the possibility that she wasn’t skilled enough to fulfill the task.

After Garak learned that she was not informed of his history with her family, he realized that it was far more likely that Dukat didn't intend for her to succeed. Dukat had attempted to blend his illegitimate family with his legitimate one, and that had, predictably, gone poorly. Garak had enjoyed watching Dukat's career implode on itself and hearing the rumors about the distance that his family was quickly putting between them. It wouldn't be too far-fetched to assume that Dukat had decided that his daughter wasn't worth all the trouble. He could easily dispose of her by sending her to this station where she would inevitably learn about her grandfather, and, in a misguided attempt to restore the family honor, attempt to kill him. Naturally, Garak would eliminate her. Then, once she had slipped from the public's collective memory, Dukat could regain some of the traction he lost and start to reassemble his life. And by leaving her to discover her grandfather’s fate and form a plan independently, he could honestly say he was ignorant of any objectionable actions she may take.

The absolute last thing Garak had any intention of doing was assisting that self-serving egotist’s return to power. Thus, he would have to avoid any shoddy assassination attempts while ensuring that she stayed perfectly alive. This was an unusual prospect for him. Were it some crass brute with an aggression problem, he'd allow himself to be bloodied and beaten. It was easier that way; he attracted less attention when he was "the victim" and then security would take care of the rest. Assassins were another story altogether. One couldn't let a more committed threat like that persist, and so, typically, an assassin’s initial attempt on his life was their last, if they even made it that far.

And so here he was, neither able to allow Ziyal to carry on with her intentions, nor having any desire to eliminate her himself. There was a first time for everything, he supposed. The easy solution was to avoid her. That would keep him from any situation in which he might have to act in self-defense. It was inconvenient more than anything. He could still go about his daily routine, but would be checking on her whereabouts frequently, and taking a few more meals in his quarters rather than the replimat. If they were to cross paths in any communal area, he had ways of blending in or slipping away.

And then there was Major Kira, who seemed to be keeping an eye on Ziyal in her father's absence. If the Major had taken this girl under her wing, she would not look kindly on last night's events. And, as one of those crass types, she would most likely cause a scene immediately after learning what happened, with no regard for who may or may not be present. He would await that inevitability, but he wasn’t overly concerned. The Constable's fondness for the Major wouldn't override his desire to maintain order on the station, so he could count on a quick resolution if she approached him in the more populated areas of the station.

As for when he was in his own quarters or alone in his shop, there were some fortifications he could arrange to keep Ziyal or the Major from gaining access. He would probably need to employ them, as this situation demanded that he spend rather less time in public than he might like.

It was not lost on him that his desire for company had somehow ended with him having less of a social life than usual for the foreseeable future.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter alludes to events in 4x17 "Accession," and 4x19 "Hard Time."

In two weeks, Ziyal had gotten to know her way around the station well enough. She had a firm grasp of where everything was located and where to go to get what she needed. The station was becoming familiar and comfortable as her life settled into a routine.

Her interactions with others were also falling into a much less pleasant routine. The initial wave of gossip, shock, and disgust amongst the Bajoran occupants was still at its height. Those who were most polite stared and tried to hide it. Others actively scowled at her. Once she was certain that she was tripped by one of them on purpose.

Infuriating didn’t begin to describe it. And so, she found herself spending most of her time alone, venturing out only when she was going to spend time with Kira or needed to do something she couldn’t do from the safety of her quarters.

Some aspects of this arrangement suited her just fine. It was the first time she ever had a room all to herself, and she was taking full advantage of it. She was enjoying the freedom she had to do whatever she wanted without concerning herself with anyone else.

Other times, however, it did feel a bit lonely. Nerys was wonderful, but she led a busy life, so much of Ziyal’s time was spent without her only friend for light years in any direction. It only made sense that her thoughts would sometimes wander back to her first night on the station and the stranger who seemed to go out of his way to make her feel welcome. What she wouldn't give for someone to talk to when Nerys was away on a mission...

The chime of her door followed by a loud crash broke her out of her reverie. She hurried to the door only to find Nerys looking frazzled and hanging on to an easel and a few large canvases. The floor surrounding her was littered with brushes, tubes of paint, and other assorted art debris. A large empty box lay uselessly to one side.

"I didn't really know what I was ordering for you. I think I may have overdone it a little."

They both began to laugh and then took to cleaning up the mess. Moving inside, she started sorting through all the supplies. Kira did her best to help out.

"I'm sorry this took so long to get for you. I had to order the larger stuff like the canvases and easel and some of the more specific paints. They were either too big or too obscure for standard replicators."

"No worries, I've been sketching with what I could get in the meantime."

"I hope the materials are good quality. Like I said, I didn't really know what I was ordering. Have you always been interested in painting?"

"Not painting specifically, no, but I've always admired others' artwork. I remember once when I was little, Father brought Mother and me onto a ship that had a whole bunch of paintings. I remember my mother telling me that they were all made by Bajorans. Looking back, I guess they must have been stolen during the Occupation and were being taken to some place more secure than where they'd come from. It's still one of my favorite memories though. I'd never seen anything quite as beautiful as those paintings.

"Anyways, when I was stuck on Dozaria and had one of those brief moments where I wasn't actively being made to work, I'd draw patterns in the sand with mining tools or make designs by rearranging stones. It was just something to do, it helped keep me sane. Staying sane isn't really a problem now, but I figure I might as well keep with it."

"Sounds like a good plan to me. I've been wondering what you might end up doing, once you were ready to try some sort of career."

"I've been struggling with that myself. Living in caves for five years didn't leave me with many skills that are in demand. I don't really feel like I can do much of anything, especially since I'm so far behind in my education. There's a lot that I never learned."

"You're smart, you can make up for whatever you missed. If you like, I’ll grab some textbooks for you next chance I get. Take it from someone who never had a formal education, you’ll find your place and do just fine for yourself."

"Thanks Nerys." She was genuinely touched by her sincerity and offer to help, and thoroughly amused to see her lump oil-based paints and watercolors together, unaware of the difference.

Ziyal took some time to get oriented with all of the different tools and techniques at her disposal. It was only a few days later when the door chimed and Ziyal was greeted by a miserable-looking Kira. "Could I get some art lessons?"

Giving her an exasperated look, Ziyal said, "I appreciate that you're taking an interest in what I'm up to, but you don’t have to force it like this."

"It's not that, it's this whole thing with the new Emissary. He says we're supposed to follow the old d'jarras, and that means I'm an artist now. Or I will be anyway after Sisko finds a replacement for me."

Ziyal had been watching this whole mess with Akorem and the caste system, and was kind of glad to not be involved. She wasn’t sure if her heritage excluded her from the d’jarra system officially, or if it was just common-variety racism at play, but she was never approached to take her place in the new social order.

Returning to the subject at hand, she told Nerys, "I don't know how good of a teacher I'll be, considering I’ve only been at this for a few days, but we can try. Here, I’ll get you set up with brushes and a canvas. Why don't you go to the replicator and pick out something to draw?"

"Like what?"

"It can be anything, a piece of fruit, a fork, a self-sealing stem bolt. It's doesn't matter, it's just for practice."

An hour and a half later, Ziyal turned the painting upside down. With a deep breath and as much optimism as she could manage, she said, "See? It looks more like a jumja stick when you turn it like this."

Kira sat with her hands covering her face, eyes peering out from between her fingers. She knew it looked less like a jumja stick and more like she gotten into a fight with the canvas and lost.

"Maybe you need to try a different medium. Give sculpture a try."

"I guess I'll have to. Akorem says that he doesn’t expect everyone to shift their careers and lives overnight, but it sure feels like he does.”

Ziyal sat down next to her. “Can I ask you something? Why does everyone accept Akorem as the new Emissary? There was no doubt that Captain Sisko was the Emissary a few days ago. How can you be sure that he's not?"

"I can't speak for anyone else, but Akorem just makes more sense as the Emissary. He's actually Bajoran for one thing. And it's no secret that the Captain never fully embraced the role. It is what it is, we just have to make the best of it."

"But what if you're wrong?" She suddenly realized that she was probably coming off as rude and walking on unstable ground. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be bothering you with this." Ziyal didn’t want to repeat the religious debate she’d had with Nerys not so long ago. After dodging her friend’s repeated attempts to get her to visit the temple, Ziyal finally came clean with her and explained that she had little faith in the Prophets.

She was confident that the wormhole aliens existed and that they did have some interest in Bajor, occasionally acting in a way that helped the planet and its people. When she examined her own life, however, she found hard to reconcile an adolescence enslaved with “the will of the prophets” and the concept that everything happens for a reason.

Explaining as much to Nerys had been stressful; she knew how much her faith meant to her and how much it meant to every Bajoran, including her mother. She respected that, and that’s why she didn’t want to visit the temple. She thought it would be insulting to visit and go through the motions with such insincerity. Nerys felt quite the opposite - that visiting the temple would allow her faith take root and help her find her way again after such a traumatic experience. Back and forth they’d gone, never quite arguing, but each determined to hold their ground. Eventually, they had agreed to disagree and had tactfully avoided the subject, until now. Ziyal was mentally kicking herself.

Thankfully, Nerys was no more keen on continuing that debate. "No, it's alright, Odo was asking me the same thing. I know it's different for you." She paused for a moment, considering. "When you were stuck in the mines for years and years, did you ever doubt that your father would come rescue you?"

"No, I knew he'd keep trying, as long as he was able to. That's what kept me going."

"But then he considered killing you when he first got there."

"Yeah. But he made the right decision in the end."

"It's not a perfect comparison, but it's probably the best I can come up with. You had faith that your father would come for you. It could have ended badly, but that wouldn't have changed the past five years in the mines. Your hope was what got you through. I don't know how this is all going to turn out, and I really don't see my art career taking off anytime soon. But having faith that it's all for the best is what got me through the Occupation, and it will get me through this too."

That was something Ziyal could relate to. She still wasn’t going to be visiting the temple anytime soon, but she was glad to understand where Kira was coming from.

Of course, things got a good deal worse in the days that followed. Kira made plans to apprentice on Bajor, and Ziyal found herself mentally scrambling, trying to figure out what she’d do without her. And then, just like that Akorem was returned to his own time, the d'jarras were abandoned, and life on the station had begun to return to normal. Ziyal was pleasantly surprised by a gift sent from Kira: a lumpy clay bird with a note attached.

_Thank you for the art lessons. It's too bad I was unteachable. The d'jarras are gone, and I think we're all glad to see them go. I want you to have this. In spite of everything you’ve gone through, you’re an optimist at heart. But I know your transition to the station hasn’t been problem free. If you don’t feel you can turn to the Prophets, then take my word for it: hang in there, things will get better._

Ziyal smiled. That was the type of reassurance she could use.

And then suddenly the idea came to her. She had been wanting to paint something for Nerys for a while now. Something worthy of being given as a gift. Now she had it in her mind and it would have to come out and stick to the canvas instead. It would take time; she still needed practice after all. But she had no doubt that Nerys would love it.                                                                     

***

It was curious, Garak thought. Ziyal was taking her time with things. Every time he checked on her whereabouts, she was in her quarters. Sometimes Major Kira paid her a visit, but that was all. After the first few weeks of this, he thought that perhaps she was stealthier than he suspected, but more focused surveillance still placed her in her quarters twenty-six hours a day.

This time was no different. A glance at the modified PADD he kept in the back room of his shop showed that she was still in her quarters.

There were only two times that he had caught her outside her quarters. Once, she had done nothing more than walk around the promenade. The other, she visited Kira in her quarters for a time before returning to her room.

Further monitoring of any incoming or outgoing subspace transmissions only revealed that she had no transmissions whatsoever.

It begged the question: why should he go to extreme lengths to avoid her when she was already doing the job for him?

He decided to close the shop early.

After all, it wasn't as if he were being careless. He'd taken every precaution he could reasonably take. He would continue to watch her, but all evidence said that she would stay holed up indefinitely.

As he stepped into the Infirmary, a nurse approached, questioning him about the nature of his visit.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to speak to Doctor Bashir about it privately," he said, massaging his temple.

"Doctor Bashir is with another patient, and probably will be for some time."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to wait until he's available."

She shrugged. "If you want to wait there in pain, be my guest," she said blandly, and then left to attend to more cooperative patients.

He had only just sat down when the door to an exam room slid open. The Doctor's back was in the doorway and he was saying a few things to the patient, presumably before departing.

Garak quickly approached so that he was right behind the Doctor, and caught him saying, "... going to go get Keiko, I'll be right back."

"Doctor!"

He started and spun around at the unexpected greeting. "Garak." After a moment, he asked, "Is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid that a string of exceptionally difficult customers have brought on stronger migraines than usual. I'm hoping you might be able to reevaluate my prescription."

"Well I'm afraid you'll have to get one of the nurses to take care of it. Miles has just returned from some Argrathi prison simulation."

Garak glanced over the Doctor's shoulder to see Chief O'Brien staring at the wall, eyes unfocused as though seeing through it. He knew that look. He'd brought that look upon others, in the past.

Looking back to the Doctor, he asked, "Then might I inquire about lunch tomorrow?"

"Not now Garak, this is serious." He brushed past him and out of the infirmary.

His ability to avoid Ziyal would remain unaffected by social plans.

***

Ziyal marched towards Kira's quarters, hoping she hadn’t slept in on her day off. If there was one thing she needed right now, it was her brand of encouragement.

It had started last night when some rather offensive graffiti had appeared on her door. This morning she'd reported it to Odo, who said he'd look into it.

She still hadn’t been leaving her quarters for meals, but the sight of the replimat piqued her curiosity. She thought she might as well give it a try since she was right there anyway. While waiting in line for her food, a pair of Bajoran men in front of her were conversing. The one with his back to her was describing how his employer was treating him poorly, and referred to his employer as a "spoonhead" for working him so hard. His suddenly-nervous friend had jabbed him in the ribs and gestured to Ziyal. The offending man had turned, looked at her and offered an insincere "Oh, sorry," before turning back to the other man.

In a thoroughly sour mood, she sat down to eat. She made it about halfway through her meal when a bit of debris from the mezzanine hit her on the head. After the third time it happened, she caught the culprits: a Bajoran child and her human friend, their giggling faces retreating from view.

So she left her food on the table and headed to Kira's, hoping she was awake.

She jabbed at the chime, and breathed a sigh of relief as the door opened. "Nerys, can I rant at you for a while?"

"Sure?" she replied skeptically.

Ziyal told her everything that happened that morning, barely stopping to breathe. "I don't get it. Is it something I'm wearing? Did I piss off the Prophets? I thought things might be getting better, but it feels like I'm back to square one."

"I'm sure things are actually getting better. You just had a bad day."

"The day is barely even started!"

"I know, but it will get better, I promise. Now, what do you say we bring this rant to an end and talk about something better?"

There were times when Ziyal really wished Nerys had more useful advice for her. On days like today, it really felt like she might never find her place. In absence of advice, Nerys was very skilled at taking her mind off of her problems, and she was thankful for that, at least.

Nerys shared the latest gossip about Latara. She’d gotten married a few weeks ago, and recently returned from her honeymoon. It had been a disaster, with a lost reservation and having to switch hotels every couple of nights.

She was caught up on the Chief of Engineering’s progress reintegrating with his “old” life after returning from a prison that existed only in his mind. According to Kira, it seemed that he’d turned a corner and was getting back to his old self after struggling for some time. Ziyal found herself wondering what her life might be like if she were given the chance to go back, still carrying the full weight of her experiences but with her missing years still ahead of her. She cut that line of thought off, however. She was trying to cheer up, not hash over melancholy what-ifs.

Ziyal asked Nerys about how things were going with Shakaar. Quite well, it seemed. There were the expected challenges with doing things long-distance, but Kira was content with how things were developing.

In all this discussion of Kira’s many friends and colleagues, Ziyal found herself a bit envious. Nerys seemed to have so many people in her life. Even if she was clashing with one of them (a fairly regular occurrence), she had any number of other friends she might be able to talk to.

Ziyal didn’t need as many social connections as Kira, but she couldn’t deny that she wanted just a few of her own. Thus far, however, there was still only one other person who’d tried to engage with her.

"Nerys, have you ever found yourself drawn to someone that you’ve been told you shouldn't spend time with?"

"What do you mean?"

Ziyal steeled herself to move the conversation forward. "You know my first night on the station? I told you that I stayed up all night talking to Garak. I really want to talk to him again, but you say that it's probably a bad idea for the two of us to spend time together."

"Yeah, hanging out with Garak is not something I'd recommend to anyone, let alone you. Why do you want to see him so badly anyway? Why don't you let me introduce you to some of my friends, I know that you and Dax would get along great." Kira had been trying for some time to get her out and mingling with more station residents.

"I don't want to have to ask people to be my friend."

"That's not what this is. You stay cooped up in your quarters most days, people barely know you're here. You've got to start somewhere."

"There's more to it than that though. He and I have something in common that I don't have with anyone else here. I'm still playing catch-up, trying to learn things people my age should know by now. You've helped me with the Bajoran side of things, but I still I want learn more about Cardassia's history and art and traditions. I've never had anyone willing to teach me about those things except for my father, and I can't talk to him right now. Garak was more than happy to share those things with me, and he didn't shy away with he realized I was Bajoran too. He's like you that way. You both reached out to me"

Kira seemed uneasy at this comparison. Cautiously, she said "Ziyal, he hasn't reached out again since the first night you were here."

"That's only because I never had a chance to explain myself. He ended up thinking I was going to try and kill him."

"How did you manage that?"

"Well I didn't want to tell him who my father was because that never goes over well, so I made up a bunch of stuff about who I was. He assumed I was a really terrible assassin and he pulled a disruptor on me. He calmed down a little when I-"

"Computer, locate Garak." Kira's eyes had been getting wider and wider as Ziyal spoke. She looked furious.

The computer chirped back "Mister Garak is in the replimat." Kira leapt up and left the room.

"Nerys?"

Kira didn't slow down.

"Nerys!" She decided to follow her. "Hey, wait!" Kira was already so far ahead, Ziyal had to jog a few steps. "What are you doing?"

Kira ignored her question and fired back with her own, "Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner!?"  Her voice was harsh with an intense anger. It reminded Ziyal of when Kira was yelling at her father back in the mines, and it felt like a slap in the face.

“Because nothing happened. He didn’t hurt me and it was all a mistake."

"You don't know him. This is all some disgusting plan of his to antagonize your father, I'm sure. Go back, I don't want you to see this."

"I'm not going to just let you hurt him!" She followed Kira onto the turbolift. "He's one of the only people on this station that's treated me like more than a curiosity or a freak!"

Just before the turbolift doors shut, Kira shoved Ziyal out. "Go home. We'll talk later."

Recovering, Ziyal spun around, too late to get back on the lift. She jabbed at the button impatiently. Even if she got there quickly, she knew that there was little she could do to stop Kira, but going back to her quarters and waiting patiently wasn't an option.

***

Garak was sitting at his usual table in the replimat, waiting for Odo when he saw the Major approaching. He had no doubt about what was coming, but offered her the usual polite greeting as she neared the table. "Good day, Major. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He saw her hands go to the edge of the table. He hurried out of his chair a split second before she flipped the table to the side. The flying cutlery and spilled beverage barely missed him.

"You know damn well what this is about," She growled.

"If your goal was to show off your ability to make a dramatic entrance, I must say, I'm impressed."

In one smooth motion she rounded the tipped table and grabbed his collar. Keeping her voice low and quiet, she said, "I hate Dukat as much as you do, probably more, but there are some things you just don't do. She had nothing to do with his political schemes. She never even knew the grandfather that you murdered, so what gives you the right to threaten her?"

"I assure you, I was acting entirely in self-defense."

"Self-defense? From what!? She is a nineteen-year-old girl who wants nothing more than to live a normal life. She can barely tell the front end of a phaser from the back, let alone hurt someone like you."

This was more or less the response he expected from her. "Major, if I may be so bold, I'd like to point out that I have not had any contact with her since that encounter."

"You'd better make sure it stays that way. Because I swear, if any harm comes to her-"

"What's going on here?" Odo's voice cut through the mummers of the gathering crowd.

Kira released her grip on his collar. Garak addressed Odo as he began readjusting his clothes, "Nothing more than an intense moment in an otherwise cordial business discussion."

Kira still looked livid. Odo eyed them both, piecing together what really happened. Taking in the upended table and Garak's disordered appearance, he said, "I see. And this discussion isn't worth pressing charges over?" His look indicated that he still suspected Garak was somehow at fault, in spite of how things appeared.

"Absolutely not. However, I’m afraid we'll have to reschedule for a less turbulent time." Turning to Kira, he said, “Major, I assure you, I’ll treat your garments with the utmost respect. Now if you'll excuse me." He looked towards the main exit, only to find Ziyal standing to the side looking distressed and out of breath. He offered her a polite nod, and then opted to take the rear exit.

As he walked along the corridor back to his quarters, he mused to himself that he was glad to get that over with. He'd observed that the Major and Ziyal were close, so he'd expected her to learn about their introduction long before now. Waiting on such confrontations was rather taxing.

The Constable now surely being brought up to date, it was expected that he would be keeping an eye on both himself and Kira for some time. That suited him well enough, under the circumstances.

Ziyal’s plans were still a bit of a mystery, however. Was she biding her time? Had she only learned of her grandfather's death now? That may have been related to Kira's outburst today.

He suspected that he might soon see more movement on her part, so he would remain vigilant and continue to avoid any further contact with her by tracking her movements and maintaining a low profile. An inconvenience, to be sure, but a small one when considering the alternative.

*** 

Still panting after she ran from the lift, Ziyal entered the replimat to see Nerys looking very angry, Odo in full Chief of Security mode, Garak in a somewhat disheveled state, a huge mess, and many onlookers. Readjusting his hair and straightening his tunic, he had turned to her and nodded before leaving.

It felt like a solid minute before she had the will to move again. Slowly she made her way over to Nerys and Odo who were engaged in a low conversation with Nerys’s voice steadily growing louder.

“...not how we do things here.”

“This isn’t about some grudge, Odo-”

“I don’t care what it’s about Major. You give suspects the upper hand when you don’t go through official channels.”

“Nothing Garak does involves the ‘official channels’ so I don’t see why we should be trying to handle him that way. I’m not going to let him think he can threaten her and get away with it,” Kira shot back as she gestured towards Ziyal.

He looked Ziyal over, piecing together what part she might have played in the confrontation. “Let’s discuss this in my office.”

As they gathered around his desk, he asked “Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”

He had addressed Ziyal, but Kira wasted no time in answering, “The first night, the very first night she was on the station, he was sticking a disruptor in her face.”

Odo turned to back to Ziyal, “Is this true?”

“Sort of. He aimed a disruptor at me, but it was more confusing than threatening.”

“You didn’t feel threatened when you had a weapon pointed at you?”

“Only at first. I spent six years surrounded by armed guards. I have a pretty good idea of when someone is just going through the motions and when someone actually wants to hurt me. He was defensive at first, but he seemed to think I was less threatening once I made it clear that I had no idea what was going on. I could tell from his body language that he just wanted to leave."

"And what lead up to this confrontation?”

"Nothing. We were just talking." She felt heat rising to her face and hoped that neither of them would notice."

“Did he strike you or harm you in any manner?"

“No.”

“If there was no physical contact, there’s no room for assault charges. Did the two of you set foot on the promenade at any point that night?”

“Yes, we took a walk there.”

“Was he carrying the disruptor?”

“I mean, not in his hand, but I assume he had it hidden somewhere. I don’t know where he would have gotten it from otherwise.”

“Weapons on the promenade are a violation of station regulations. It’s a slap on the wrist, but it’s something,” Odo gave her an appraising look before moving on, "Did he issue any threats or ultimatums going forward?"

She closed her eyes, straining to remember his words, “He said something like ‘If we meet again, I doubt you'll be so benevolent.’ Like I was going to hunt him down or something, but I don’t have any intention of doing so. The first time I'd seen him since that night was just now in the replimat. It all still feels like a big misunderstanding."

He considered for a moment. "Under the circumstances, I think it's unlikely he'll do anything more."

"Odo!" Kira burst.

"Not to worry Major, I'll fully investigate the matter regardless.” Addressing Ziyal, he said, “I believe that if he wanted to harm you, he would have done so by now, but one can never be too careful with him. I’ll monitor his movements and communications, just to be safe. And at our next breakfast, I'll be sure to have a little chat with Mister Garak about the appropriate use of firearms."

"But couldn't we just tell him I'm not going to hurt him?"

Odo made an incredulous noise. "If there's one thing I've learned in my dealings with Garak, it's that confronting him about something directly rarely gets you what you hoped for. You either have to completely corner him about something until there's no way out, or let him come to his own conclusions. Now, unless you have any other information that might aid in my investigation, I think we're done here."

Kira said, "Be sure to keep an eye on this one, Odo," and then gestured for Ziyal to follow her out of the office.

They walked together in silence. Ziyal stole a glance at Kira every couple minutes, but her serious visage revealed nothing. She could only assume that Kira was angry at her too and that she was in for an earful once they reached wherever they were headed. It was unfair, really. Yes, she'd wandered off that first night when she would have been safer staying in her quarters, but since when was that so wrong? Kira had been encouraging her to do just that for weeks now.

As they approached Kira's quarters, Ziyal mentally prepared herself. She didn't want to argue with Nerys, but she wasn't going to let herself be lectured about something that wasn't really her fault either.

Stepping over the threshold, she decided to try and get the upper hand, "Look, I know I-"

But before she could get another word out, she was pulled into a hug.

"Nerys..."

"I brought you here because I thought it would be safer for you. I didn't want you to have to go through the things I did." There was a quiet sincerity in her voice Ziyal had never heard before. It seemed Nerys was only angry at herself right now.

She pulled back so she could look her friend in the face. "Don't blame yourself, it's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault, not really."

"But you don't deserve this. You've had to struggle so much already. I wanted to give you a normal life, not having to look over your shoulder all the time."

"I haven't been looking over my shoulder these past six weeks. I didn't even tell you about this until now because I didn't think much about it. I'm used to it." She tried to give Kira what she thought was a reassuring smile, but dropped it when Kira grabbed her shoulders.

“That’s the problem. No one should ever be used to it. You’re so _used_ to it, I’m worried that you don’t know when you’re in danger anymore.”

Ziyal stared at the carpet as she was suddenly caught up in thoughts and memories. Her first weeks back from the labor camp were a whirlwind of readjustment. It was exhilarating to be able to go anywhere or do anything whenever she wanted, but there were lots of old habits to break, things that had become normal in captivity. After being reunited with her father, there had been times where all of the new and unfamiliar sights and smells and sounds overwhelmed her, and she would have to go to a quiet, dark room until she settled down and felt comfortable again. She had to be reminded to slow down when she was eating because her food wasn’t going to be taken from her anymore, and she had to still her reflexes that wanted to snatch up and eat food that fell to the floor. The ever-present noise on her father’s ship and in the Cardassian capital kept her awake at night. Once, after tripping over a step, she’d twisted her ankle and limped on it for an hour before her father noticed and got her to someone who healed it near-instantaneously.

But she’d overcome all of that. She felt like she’d been getting along pretty well for a while now, that she was a functioning, whole person again. But here was Nerys telling her that there was one more thing that wasn’t quite back to “normal.” Tears welled in her eyes as she second-guessed herself, struggling to figure out if what she felt was what was right, or if her intuition was one more part of her that was broken.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I really don’t think he wanted to hurt me, but I don’t know anymore.”

Kira pulled her in close again and let her cry. For a long time that was the only sound as she shuddered against her friend’s shoulder. After a while, Nerys sat her down on the couch and fetched her some deka tea and a handkerchief.

With a sighing breath, Nerys said, “You know, when the occupation ended, I wasn’t really sure how I was going to exist. My time in the resistance shaped who I am. It’s gotten me into trouble sometimes. The little show in the replimat earlier today is proof enough of that. It also honed my instincts that let me survive and keep fighting. Maybe you’ve got something similar going on, and you read Garak right, I don’t know. Odo seemed to think you might be on the right track. What I do know is that from now on, you shouldn’t keep this type of thing to yourself, okay?”

Ziyal blew her nose and nodded.

Kira continued, “If someone threatens you like that, even if you don’t think they meant it, tell me, or Odo, or anybody. Nobody wants to see you get hurt.” A smile played at the corners of Nerys’s mouth. “Plus, it’s not like we can test those instincts of yours. We wouldn’t want to put you in front of a firing squad or something.”

That got a small laugh from Ziyal. "No, that would be bad. But if it happens again, I'll let you know." She dabbed at her eyes, no longer actively crying. “Does it ever get any easier? Coming to terms with this stuff?”

“Yeah,” her voice soft, “It takes a long time, but it gets easier.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> References made to 4x21, "The Muse," and 4x22, "For the Cause."

Ziyal’s last interaction with Kira wound its way around her brain for the next few days. Thankfully after sleeping on it, the pain and confusion that overcame her in Nerys’s quarters receded, and she could examine the situation with a clearer head.

Her gut feeling was still telling her that she had judged Garak’s intent correctly, but she was no longer sure if she could trust her gut feelings. Yes, she had gotten herself out of that bad situation, but what if it was just luck? What if the instincts that she had honed for years were really only tuned in to the Breen's way of doing things? What if her intuition was becoming dull now that she wasn't surrounded by armed guards all day? Nerys had good intentions when she questioned Ziyal’s understanding of the incident, but in doing so, Nerys had poked a hole in her confidence, and all kinds of plausible doubts came flowing out.

The problem was, she still very much wished to reconnect with Garak, and where she was previously held back by Kira's concern, her own internal turmoil was causing her current hesitation.

What she felt she needed was an outside perspective. Clearly Nerys thought that whatever small possibility there was of reconciliation wasn't worth the risk. However, Ziyal knew her friend wasn’t an unbiased source of information. She was a former member of the Bajoran Resistance, and she didn’t approach other Cardassians with the same open-mindedness she offered to Ziyal. While she valued Kira’s input very much, what she really needed right now was a more objective opinion about Garak.

Thankfully, a new bit of information was now at her disposal: Odo apparently had breakfast with Garak on a semi-regular basis.

By now, she knew the Chief of Security's reputation. He took his job very seriously and kept station security running like a well-oiled machine. So why was he spending time with someone who, according to Nerys, was a known miscreant? She supposed that he could be conducting an investigation or trying to gather information by befriending Garak, but from what she'd observed, that didn't really seem like Odo's style.

She got up early one morning and headed to Odo's office. While she was still struggling to connect with anyone else, she had gotten to know Odo a little better by virtue of how much time he spent with Nerys.  He seemed to warm up to Ziyal, or rather, he seemed to warm up to her as much as he did to most anyone.

She knew that Nerys regularly met with Odo first thing in the morning to talk over criminal activity reports, so she went about an hour before Nerys's usual shift, hoping he would be there. She was not disappointed.

She entered Odo's office and he put down the PADD he was reading, clearly not expecting anyone. "Good morning Miss Ziyal, you seem to be up rather early. Is anything the matter?"

"No, not really. I wanted to ask you about something."

"Go on."

"When we were talking here after the incident in the replimat, I remember you saying that you eat breakfast with Garak sometimes. Or, I guess he eats breakfast and you don't. Sorry." He nodded, no hard feelings. "Are you two friends?"

"I wouldn't say that we're friends, but we occasionally meet, as you say."

"Do you trust him?"

"Hmph. You'd be hard pressed to find anyone on this station who trusts Garak."

"Then why do you spend time with him?"

"There are some things we can discuss whether I trust him or not. Besides, it gives me the opportunity to observe him, make sure that he's not causing any trouble." He paused to narrow his eyes, "Why are you asking me about this?"

"It's just that Kira says I should stay away from him because of what happened with my grandfather, but I’d really like to talk to him again if I could. He was the most outgoing and friendly person I've met since I've been on the station. I'm kind of hoping to hear that Kira is wrong about him, and that he and I could still be friends."

Something in Odo's expression changed, and she knew she was being studied. She aware by now that this was simply the way he worked, but it was uncomfortable nonetheless.

"Tell me, do you have many friends on the station?"

"No. Nerys is always there when I need her, and some people here have been polite to me. Most Bajorans won't give me a chance, though."

"What about back home? Do you have any Cardassian friends you talk to regularly?"

She gave a short laugh. "No, the situation there isn’t any better. The only person who cares for me on Cardassia is my father, and he's fighting the Klingons right now."

Ziyal couldn't be sure, but for a split second, she thought she saw something empathetic in his face.

"Yes, well, what I said yesterday still holds. It's best to leave him alone to demonstrate that you mean him no harm. I believe that once he figures that out, he may be a bit more amicable. Garak hasn't left this station because he's made more enemies than just your father. He isn't exactly welcome in the Cardassian Union, so he may appreciate someone he can talk to about home.” He picked his PADD back up, “Now I'm afraid I have some criminal activity reports to assemble."

"Thanks Odo."

"Good day, Miss Ziyal," he said, and turned back to his PADD.

It was a short conversation, but it got her the answer she was looking for: it was possible, at least in theory, to befriend Garak.

So now, she just had to actually do so. She could appreciate Odo's idea that she should wait and let Garak figure it out on his own, but she had to admit that his recommended strategy wasn't what she'd been hoping for. Odo was an exceptionally patient being. She was told that he spent his free time pretending to be inanimate objects. Of course he would suggest that she just wait and see. As far as she was concerned, she had waited. It had been six weeks since that initial encounter; Garak should be reconsidering her as a potential threat by now.

If it weren't for the recent revelation that her senses might not be everything she thought they were, she would have probably just confronted Garak outright. Sighing as she stepped over the threshold of her quarters, she supposed that it wouldn't be wise to approach him just yet, and that Odo's way was probably safest. She wondered if she might be a very accomplished artist by the time she made contact with Garak again.

She was daydreaming about what she might paint next when the computer chirped that she had an incoming transmission and her viewscreen lit up.

“Father!”

“Ziyal! I’m glad I finally caught you.”

“Where are you?”

“You know I can’t tell you that. We never know who might be listening.”

“Ah, of course. Are you alright? You seem alright.”

“We’ve had a few close calls, but I haven’t been injured. How are you? What have you been doing since your arrival?”

She told him all about her foray into painting, and showed him the work-in-progress painting for Nerys (it was nearly finished at this point). He inquired after Kira, and she excitedly told him about the upcoming springball match, and how Nerys was expected to advance to the finals. Finally, he asked her if she had gotten his earlier message.

“Yes, I actually wanted to ask you about that. By the time I read your message, I had already talked to him. Nerys told me that he had something to do with Grandfather's death. What happened?"

He explained the sedition charges, trial, and his father's revelation that indicated Garak had been the one to extract information from him via force. From Ziyal’s perspective this only muddled things further.

"So wait, that means Grandfather was guilty of sedition."

"Of course he wasn’t."

"I thought that once charges are pressed, that means the criminal is guilty."

"He was working in the interests of the State as well as our own. The Obsidian Order, however, has its own agenda. Garak and his kind destroyed your Grandfather's life as a means to an end."

"I see..." she said, voice laced with uncertainty. With what seemed to be decades of animosity between her father and Garak, she’d assumed that Garak’s “betrayal” had involved something much more underhanded. She’d expected him to say that Garak had falsified evidence or that her grandfather had died defending innocent people or something. From what she could tell, her grandfather intentionally and deliberately worked to undermine the civilian government, and Garak had merely exposed it (albeit, through torture). And in spite of her father telling her repeatedly that criminals on trial were always guilty, somehow this one time the State was supposed to be wrong?

"He murdered your grandfather and ‘I see’ is all you have to say?"

"Well it's not like I ever met him," she said, _and it's not like he would have cared for me either,_ she thought.

"He was your family whether you knew him or not," he growled. "And it's not going to matter to that tailor whether you knew him. He'd love nothing more than to see the rest of our family wiped out."

"But why? If he interrogated Grandfather as an assignment for the Order, what reason would he have to come after me? He's not in the Order anymore, and I haven’t-"

"Ziyal, I don’t have enough time here to explain everything, but he would slaughter you at the first opportunity.”

"That's not true. He had a chance to kill me but didn’t. Really, he was very kind to me. What if he’s changed for the better?"

"That's impossible."

She rolled her eyes at his insistence. She may have had her own doubts, but his view of Garak seemed highly distorted when compared to her experience.

"Ziyal, I'm not there to protect you, and that man is a dangerous. You must stay away from him."

"Fine. We only talked the one time anyway." At this point, she just wanted to talk about something else.

"Good. See that it stays that way."

Their conversation continued on much more pleasantly after that, but all too soon he had to leave. They exchanged a heartfelt goodbye, not knowing when they would see each other again. Their disagreement aside, she was thrilled to have the chance to talk to her father again.

And that disagreement would remain. He was clinging to old prejudices and expecting her to hold onto them as well. How could she possibly do so, knowing her father and the things he had done and how he regretted them now? If he was capable of seeing the error of his ways, then why was he unwilling to extend the benefit of the doubt to others? His absolutism regarding Garak led her to throw out his opinion entirely. She had thought Nerys was biased, but she was looking positively balanced by comparison.

Picking up a brush and getting to work, she mused that that was one more reason she appreciated Nerys so much.

***

In light of Odo's advice that she stay clear of Garak until he saw her as the unassuming person she was, she had taken to eating in the replimat and Quark’s more regularly. She figured that being out in the station and not causing trouble might be a better demonstration of what a non-threat she was than staying in her quarters all the time. It didn't hurt that she was starting to find her quarters rather dull. Going out came with the risk of being chastised, but on good days, she did enjoy people-watching. This new routine had made for an interesting week. Thankfully the more hostile reactions she had elicited at first were becoming less frequent.

After one such meal, she was on her way back to her quarters when she heard a series of sudden footfalls behind her, and she suddenly found herself roughly shoved into a nearby alcove.

“Who do you think you are?” a quiet but angry male voice was demanding. She hoped he didn’t expect an answer, on account of his hand covering her mouth. If the alcohol on his breath was any indication, he actually might. “I saw you starin’ at me in Quark’s; wishin’ your daddy was still here so we could be doing all your work for you.”

She took in the situation as her eyes adjusted. The Bajoran man covering her mouth was leaning in, one elbow and forearm were pinning her to the wall while the other arm fished around in his back pocket. She recognized him; she had seen him in Quark’s and had probably been staring in his general direction too, but she was looking past him. She was counting the drinks that the ever-present Lurian at the bar consumed while she ate her meal. It was a sort of bet she made to amuse herself: how much would he drink in the short time she was sitting there?

_Give him what he wants,_ her instincts whispered their core mantra, but that was impossible. He seemed to want her to stop being who she was. Were that physically possible, she would have considered it, but she was stuck. This was most definitely the sort of dangerous situation Kira had worried about, and she had no problem seeing it for what it was.

“All you Cardies think you’re so much better than us. I’ll make sure you can't give me any more dirty looks.” Finally freeing his pocket knife and flicking it open, he unsteadily drew it up, making its way towards her eyes.

She wasn’t sure how drunk the man was, but she had to try something. Quick as she could she jerked her head forward, allowing one of his fingers to slip into her mouth and bit down as hard as she could.

He screamed and she slid away, and broke into a sprint. He was probably following her, but she couldn't hear anything over the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. _Back to the promenade,_ she thought, _back where people can see you._ Emerging back into the public sphere, she scanned the crowds. _He's got to be here, he's always here somewhere,_ she thought. Finally she saw the familiar beige form.

"Odo!"

He took in her panicked visage at once. "What happened?"

"A man near my quarters, he had a knife..." she trailed off, out of breath, but Odo didn't need to hear more.

He tapped his badge, "Odo to security, armed suspect in level five, section eleven of the habitat ring. Sweep the area," addressing her, he asked "Do you need an escort to the infirmary?"

"No, he didn't hurt me."

He gave her a curious look, "I might not have blood, but I've come to learn when a humanoid is bleeding more than they should be."

She looked down, confused, and saw a dark red stain at her collar. She reached up and felt her neck, wincing. The knife must have nicked her as she escaped.

"Come on," he urged her forward, no longer giving her a choice as to the escort. The infirmary was only a short walk from where they were standing, and Odo immediately set off to assist his fellow officers. A nurse quickly put her back in order, mending the shallow cut with a dermal regenerator. From there she headed to the security office, as Odo had instructed.

She was prepared to give her statement about the incident, but was surprised that the officer recognized her.

"It's Ziyal, right? Kira introduced us when you first arrived."

"Yeah, um, Latara?" The Bajoran woman nodded and smiled.

"How have you been doing? I'm guessing not too well today, if you're here."

Ziyal explained what happened and described the man, answering Latara's questions as best she could. Once they'd covered all there was to report, Latara sighed and said, "Sounds like one of the usual troublemakers alright."

Ziyal had nothing to say to that, and looked at nothing in particular, eyes unfocused. She jumped when Latara put a comforting hand on hers, "I'm sorry if I was rude when we first met, I was caught off guard. But if Kira's willing to vouch for you, well... I trust Kira's judgment."

She'd been ignored for so long, she was genuinely taken aback by someone reaching out to her. The fact that Latara was a bit inelegant about it didn't help much. "Ah...thanks," she managed to stammer out. Her face must have been doing a better job of conveying how she felt, because Latara smiled back sweetly.

"Well, we've got all we need from you for now. Would you like me to call someone to meet you here, or to have me escort you back to your quarters?"

"If you walk me back, that will be fine. Could you call Kira and tell her what happened? I want her to know, but I don't feel like telling it all over again so soon."

"Sure, I'll let Kira know when I get back here."

"Alright. Hey... I think Kira said you got married recently, right? Congratulations."

Latara accepted her well wishes and they were on their way. She was soon back in the safety of her quarters. As the adrenaline wore off and she was left to her own devices, a familiar numbness came over her. It was like this back in the labor camp those rare times where she really thought she was going to die. When it was all over the emotional exhaustion was unbearable, and she would feel nothing for a while.

She lay on her couch staring up at the ceiling for hours.

In time, Kira showed up and let herself in. She knelt down next to the couch so she could look Ziyal in the face. "How're you doing?"

"Okay," she said hollowly.

"They caught the guy. It wasn't too hard to confirm it was him after what you did to his finger."

"That's good."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

Kira smiled sadly. "Then let's get you something to eat."

She slowly made her way over to the table while Kira fiddled with the replicator. Moments later she returned and set some hasperat down in front of her. Ziyal reflexively took a bite; the warmth and spiciness was surprisingly welcome.

"So he only got you on your left side there?"

"Yeah," she looked down at the now red-brown stain at her neckline. "I guess I should have changed."

Kira shook her head, "Don't worry about it"

They continued eating in silence for a while, the hasperat working its magic as she slowly came back to herself. Thankfully, these spells never lasted very long. The labor camp wasn't the sort of place where one could drift off for an extended period of time and survive.

"I've got to say I'm a little relieved," Nerys said. "I was really scared for you after what you said happened last time, that you might not get the help you need if you were in danger. But you took care of yourself just fine. I think you were on to something with those instincts of yours."

She smiled grimly, "It's no firing squad, but I guess it will do."

Nerys lightened a bit, glad to see her friend steadily returning to the point that she could joke.

Kira stayed for some time to be sure Ziyal was going to be alright, and the conversation steadily picked up as the evening wore on. She offered to stay overnight but Ziyal refused. She knew she would be well soon enough, and her friend's presence, while appreciated, was unnecessary.

Lying awake that night, Ziyal thought back to what Kira had said about her instincts. It was true. Comparing her encounter with Garak to this afternoon with that thug, the two couldn't be farther apart in her mind. She was more certain than ever that she had judged those respective situations correctly. Garak wasn't going to hurt her when he left, and she was sure he wouldn't now if she could make it clear to him that she wasn't out for blood.

She was going to approach him about this and try to tell him outright that she wasn't planning to harm him at all, waiting be damned. She was tired of it, so she was going to do something about it.

Then, in a show of good faith, she could invite him to do something uniquely Cardassian. Just what that something was, she wasn't terribly sure, but she’d start her search in the morning.

***

Quark's was empty, just as one would expect at this early hour, but the proprietor was behind the bar, topping off several semi-empty liquor bottles with water. Taking notice of her, he hid the water and said, "Bar's not open yet, you'll have to come back later."

"I wanted to buy something else."

His entire demeanor changed as he gave her his full attention. "Then let's talk business. What do you have in mind?" Looking at her a little more closely, "You're Ziyal, right? Major Kira ordered all that art stuff for you from Bajor. Do you need more paint?"

"No, not yet anyway. I was wondering what Cardassian holosuite programs you had?"

Moving the tray of watered-down bottles to the rear counter, he said, "Not so many anymore. Sold most of them when the Bajorans took over." He ducked down at the other end of the bar and retrieved a dusty box. "I did save a few, however, just in case. What did you have in mind?" He began rifling through the box. "I've got a kotra program that covers beginners through experts. There's a few enigma tales..."

"I was looking for something I could do with another person, but that doesn't have roleplaying or anything. Something where we can talk and get to know one another."

His eyes glinted at that. "So it's a date then?"

"I – no,” she stumbled. It hadn’t occurred to her that it might look like a date. While she wasn’t opposed to a date in theory, in practice it would add another layer of complexity to this situation. What she really wanted was someone to talk to, and that’s how she knew she should approach the situation. “It can’t look like a date."

Quark was unfazed. "Sounds to me like you don't know where you stand with Garak, and you're trying to find out."

Her head snapped back to him. "I never said anything about him!"

"You're asking for a Cardassian program to share, and he's the only other Cardassian on the station. It doesn't take a genius to figure this stuff out."

She gave him a rather cross look, certain that she was blushing. He kept on, feigning disinterest, "Look, you can deny it if you want, but I'm here to try and help you. The more you tell me about who you're with and what you want, the more likely it is that I'll get you the program you're looking for."

She let out a frustrated sigh. "Alright, it's Garak. But it’s not a date. We share a culture that I've been away from for a long time. I want to talk to him about it."

Quark didn't seem entirely convinced. "Well, with that information alone I can tell you that most of these aren’t what you're looking for. But there might be one..." He sorted through the contents and removed one of the isolinear rods. "A Cardassian sauna. A pleasant, authentic cultural experience. It will be nice and quiet so you can... talk."

That seemed like a good arrangement. Seemed. She knew a little about Cardassian Saunas from overhearing conversations on her father’s ship. They were usually fully clothed affairs, not segregated by gender. In spite of Quark's implication, she knew that a trip to a real sauna didn't equate to an amorous rendezvous. However, she'd never been to one, and having never been to one, she might not notice if something was a little off.

"You're sure this is a reproduction of a real sauna? Not some fantasy meant for romance or seduction? I'm being serious, I don't want this to come off that way."

"That's the beauty of it. It's entirely acceptable for a platonic get-together, but if things got a little more heated, no pun intended, the ambiance would still work perfectly. It's a win-win. Of course, if that's still not a good fit for you, I can special order something. For the right price, anyway."

"No, I think this should do."

"Wonderful. What time should I put you down for?"

"I'm not sure yet, but hopefully I can arrange something in about a week."

"Alright, I'll just take my gratuity, and then we can part ways."

"Gratuity?"

"Come on, don’t tell me that you don’t know about gratuity for a holosuite consultation. It was your father’s policy before the occupation ended.”

"Oh." She had no idea if that were true or not, but she'd overheard enough conversations between Odo and Nerys to realize that other people's ignorance was where Quark profited the most.

After an uncomfortable pause, she answered, “I’ll be back when I’m ready to book the holosuite,” and left for her quarters. She heard Quark shout, "Your father will be hearing about this!" but she kept going. Best to err on the side of caution rather than be taken advantage of.

She’d try to reach out to Garak tomorrow. The rest of the day would be spent painting and rehearsing conversations in her head.

***

Watching the Doctor leave his shop, Garak wondered at his reversal of fortune. Months had gone by with little more than a passing conversation on the promenade, and suddenly the Doctor drops by to invite him to an upcoming springball match. He didn't know what had changed. Perhaps the Doctor had finally moved past the holosuite incident. Maybe it was an apology for ignoring his attempts to reconnect. Garak didn't particularly care either way. He was simply looking forward to picking up where things had left off.

Of course, there was still the minor detail of the young woman who had taken to trailing him around the station lately. She must finally be embracing her real reason for being here. Major Kira was playing in this match, so the likelihood that Ziyal would be present was increased ten-fold.

This situation might call for the Constable's involvement. He was loath to even entertain the thought; under normal circumstances, the local authorities would only muck things up, allowing an assassin to live and get away or be replaced by another. Not to mention all of the extra attention it placed squarely on himself.

These were unusual circumstances, however. He'd like this particular assassin to stay alive, but out of the way. Bogging her down with some of Odo's underlings might be worth the extra scrutiny he'd have to deal with.

Yes, that would be the preferred course for the current state of affairs. He wasn't going to allow Ziyal's presence to supersede what should be a pleasant afternoon.

***

She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t experienced it herself. She’d intentionally gone looking for Garak every day the past week and hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of him.

She tried visiting his shop several different times during normal business hours, only to find the place closed with a “Be back shortly, sorry for the inconvenience,” sign on the door. Naturally, she tried waiting, but he never returned. Once, she’d approached the shop to find the door locked and a customer inside, preening herself in front of the mirror, wearing a new outfit. The customer made some sort of decision and looked around, expecting to find the proprietor nearby and puzzled when he wasn’t. The customer searched the store for him before turning towards the door, and found herself as firmly trapped inside as Ziyal was barred from entry. Ziyal went to find someone in security or engineering who could fix the door, and by the time they returned, the familiar sign was back on the store’s door and the customer was safely back on the promenade, quite disoriented.

All meals were spent in either the replimat or in Quark's, trying to account for every possible meal time, but she had no luck there.

She took to wandering aimlessly around the station’s corridors, hoping to bump into him, but never did.

Two days ago, she decided to camp outside his quarters and wait for him. She paid Quark to find out where he lived, and waited there sixteen hours, passing the time working on sketches and reading up on Bajoran art history. Surely he had to both leave and enter said quarters at some point during the day. Yet he never did. Asking around, she found that his shop had been open for business that day as usual.

He was avoiding her. That’s all there was to it. She had no idea how he was doing it, but he was clearly very serious about it.

How exactly was she supposed to find someone who very clearly didn’t want to be found?

These thoughts were running through her head as she walked along the Promenade. The sound of someone calling her name shook her from her thoughts. It was a Quark, waving her into the bar.

She headed to the bar, but he met her at the end and took her aside to speak to her. "Hey, do you have a date set for your sauna trip in the holosuite?"

"No, I haven't been able to talk to Garak at all."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Well, I happen to know he's going to be at Major Kira's springball match. If you're lucky, you might be able to catch him there."

"Are you sure?"

"Heard it with my own two ears. Dr. Bashir said he couldn’t play darts with Chief O’Brien tomorrow because he’d be at the match with Garak."

She didn’t know what to think of his generosity. "Why are you helping me with this?"

If his eyes could have rolled out of his head, they would have. "Because you don't believe in gratuity and the only way I'm going to make anything off of this is if you reserve the holosuite.” He made an impatient gesture, “So get to it, will you? I've got to get back to the bar." And with that, he marched off.

She headed to her quarters, mood considerably improved. This was her chance! She'd finally actually see him again and they could finally patch things up. It was all coming together.

There was one small setback. She felt that she needed to tell Nerys about what she planned to do. It had slipped her one-track mind when she had started searching for him, but she couldn't put it off any longer. It was going to be uncomfortable, but it didn't feel right not telling her when she knew how Nerys felt about Garak. She didn't want a repeat of the replimat incident when she caught her by surprise.

At least she had a lead-in to soften the news: the painting she’d been working on for Nerys was finally finished. She had invited her friend to drop by after she was done with her shift and planned to surprise her with it. The door chimed just when she expected it to, and she brought Kira inside, blocking her view of the room.

"So what's this surprise? If you're trying to get me to try Cardassian food again, surprising me with it won't make me gag any less," she said with a laugh.

"No. Just cover your eyes."

Nerys looked amused through her skepticism, but covered her eyes. Ziyal grabbed her shoulders and steered her through the living room until she was standing in front of the easel.

"OK, take a look."

She uncovered her eyes and after the beat that it took her to make sense of what she was seeing, gasped.

It was the wormhole, ethereal and nebulous, blue whorls and points of light revolving around the bright center. But there was more. While the paint was still wet, Ziyal had etched a design with a painting knife, removing thin lines of paint to expose the copper-painted layer beneath. The result was that the wormhole was juxtaposed with the design from the Bajoran prayer mandala. Finely carved abstract geometry paired with a more impressionistic depiction of a real-world phenomenon.

"You did this? You did this for me!? It’s beautiful!"

"I'm so glad you like it! I wanted to make you something nice as a thank you."

"A thank you for what?"

"Always being there for me, getting me the art supplies, giving me a chance even though you and my father don't get along, generally trying to make life more normal. Saving my life. I can keep going if you want."

Kira didn't let her as she wrapped her in a hug of sincere gratitude. "That's all normal stuff; you look out for people you care about. You deserve all of that."

Ziyal still wasn’t sure she deserved anything like that, but she fully intended to make up for it. The painting was just the beginning.

Deciding there was no time like the present, she pulled back from the hug. “So...there’s something I wanted to tell you. I know that Garak is going to be at your springball game tomorrow. I'm going to try to talk to him and finally sort things out."

Nerys sighed heavily, and motioned for Ziyal to join her on the couch. "Yeah, I know you've been trying to find him lately."

"You do?" She hadn't been trying to cover her tracks, but she didn't think Kira had known what she was up to.

"When I noticed that you were venturing out of your quarters a little more often, I asked Quark if anyone was giving you trouble when you ate there. He told me about your holosuite plan. I want you to answer one question. Are you still certain that he wasn’t going to hurt you when he left that evening?”

“Yes,” she said with conviction, “I looked at it every way I could, and the only way that situation makes sense is if he thought he was going to have to defend himself, and then realized he wouldn’t have to. If I can make it clear to him that I’m never going to make him defend himself, we should be able to move past that.”

Nerys sighed, obviously not thrilled, “Alright. I still think this is a bad idea, but if you really want to spend time with him, I won't stop you. I know what a hard time you're having getting to know people, and you and he share a heritage the same way you and I do. If you feel like you've got to go see him, then do it. But promise me two things."

Ziyal nodded for her to continue.

"Please be careful. Don't put yourself in situations where you can't leave. And question the things he says to you. Don't take him at his word, at least not about anything important. He has a reputation as a liar because he is one, and he's probably going to tell you a few, so be prepared for it."

It wasn’t bad advice, she thought. After all, even Odo said he didn’t fully trust Garak. She nodded, "I'll do my best."

“Good,” Kira said, more to herself than Ziyal. She continued, "The other thing I want you to do is promise me that if you don't clear up this misunderstanding or whatever you want to call it, you'll let me introduce you to some of my friends. There’s still a very real chance that you won’t get through to him and he’s going to keep avoiding you. You’re so hung up on this one person that you’re not giving other people a chance. I know you’re lonely, and my friends won’t give you the runaround like he’s been doing."

"Alright." She still had doubts, but she would humor Kira. After all, hadn’t she just been thinking about much she wanted to give back to Nerys for her kindness? If things fell through with Garak, she’d give it a try.

Kira put her arm around Ziyal's shoulder and gave her an affectionate squeeze, “I know they’ll love you.” Standing back up, and beamed at the painting again. "Well, I think I'd better get back to my quarters and hang this up. I have a pretty good idea of where to put it, too. Makes me wish I had nicer things, my quarters won't do it justice." Kira gathered the painting and left a trail of compliments in her wake as she made her exit.

Ziyal was once again alone in her quarters. She let out a small laugh when she noticed that today, she didn’t feel lonely at all.

***

It was quite late in the morning when Garak was joined by Odo, who appeared rather harried.

"I apologize for having to push back our breakfast this morning," he said sitting down. "There are some new security concerns that needed immediate attention."

"Not at all. Knowing where those replicators are headed, it would be treasonous of me to prevent you from securing them."

Odo gave him a withering look, "And I suppose I should be thanking you for finding a flaw in our communications network?"

"Well, I was doing you a favor. Now, you can fix it and prevent those with far less noble intent from gaining access."

"Hmph," Odo rolled his eyes. "I'll be sure to search for any intrusions, including ones from you."

"Actually, I have a security concern to report. Miss Ziyal seems to be stalking me around the station."

"Stalking? I find that hard to believe."

"Odo, she was waiting outside my quarters for an entire day. If that isn't evidence of malicious intent, I'm not sure what is."

"And it never occurred to you that she might just want to talk? That you might have something in common as the only two Cardassians on the station?"

"I think that's a bit beyond what family loyalty would allow. I'm quite sure she'll attempt something at today's springball match. The presence of a few security officers would do a great deal to put my mind at ease."

"Even if I were to entertain the idea that Ziyal somehow poses a threat to your personal safety, there's not enough personnel. The heightened security status had us all occupied."

"Surely you could spare one deputy."

Odo stilled his frustration and seemed to gather his thoughts, then said "Perhaps you hadn't heard, but a sizable portion of her adolescence was spent away from her father and most other Cardassians. Rather than carrying on inherited grudges, I would imagine she's more open-minded than her father. I doubt he had the time to indoctrinate her." He paused to take a sip of his simulated raktajino, before looking away as though he said nothing of consequence.

Garak regarded him with a certain curiosity. The Constable did have something of a point. Being absent from the great link, Odo had matured into someone who was free of the blinding superiority of the rest of his kind. Garak was also one of the few people who knew how much Odo missed his people. Perhaps Ziyal did too.

Nevertheless, changelings weren't bound by the same societal constraints as Cardassians. Were he talking to anyone else, he may have debated the point, but not with Odo; not when he was sharing something personal like this.

And so, with deference to Odo's sensitivities, he changed the subject. "Speaking of family connections, I hear you not only got married, but are about to be declared a father under Tavnian law. I suppose congratulations are in order."

"Hmph. The only congratulations I deserve are for doing a friend a favor. Lwaxana wanted to leave her husband and prevent him from taking custody of their child. The easiest way to do so was to marry someone else. We'll be getting a divorce once things are settled, legally." Here again, a cue, some hint of disappointment. Garak had no doubt of the Constable's lingering feelings for Major Kira, but he must have found something comforting in that woman's companionship.

"That's quite the favor. I'm sure she won't forget about it anytime soon." He paused to let the reassurance sink in. After a beat, Odo offered the smallest of nods, indicating that his remark had been received and accepted for what it was.

When Odo offered no further comments, Garak continued, "Under the circumstances, I can understand why I wasn't invited to the wedding, but I am deeply hurt that you didn't send your bride to my shop. Is it true that you wore traditional Tavnian dress for the ceremony?"

"Yes. The whole point was to make it as legitimately Tavnian as possible."

"Sham wedding or not, there’s no excuse for Tavnian wedding attire. Even with limited time, I could have found something far more flattering."

Odo must have reached his limit for Garak's variety of social interaction. He stood, raktajino mug merging back into his hand. "If you really like, you can make something for her new son. But right now, I need to check that the new security protocols are being implemented properly."

Garak gestured his goodbye, and said, "Keep an eye on Ziyal for me."

That earned him one last eyeroll before the Constable left.

But in the intervening hours before the match, Odo's comments about Ziyal played around in his head. The comparison of her situation with that of Odo's was one he hadn't considered, but was striking now that it had been brought up. If that were the case, there was a chance she might not be plotting his death at all.

He decided that cautious observation at the match was warranted. He would have wanted to keep an eye on her regardless, but now he'd be searching for her motive instead of assuming he already knew it.

If she honestly had no intention of killing him, then he would no longer waste his time dodging her constantly.

If she did, well, that seemed more manageable too. It wasn't as if she had shown herself to be especially skilled. She had been telegraphing her movements quite clearly as she followed him around the station this past week. As long as he had a decent vantage in the stands, he should be able to anticipate and evade whatever she had in mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialog from "For the Cause," 4x22 is in here.

As predicted, Ziyal was present at the match. She was sitting a few sections away, on her own, and kept looking in his direction. He was doing the same, searching for any indication that she might be about to act.

"Stop watching her," came the Doctor's voice at his side.

Was that jealousy he detected? Whatever it was, it was worth exploring.

"Oh, I thought the whole point was to watch."

"The point is to watch the game, not the spectators. Especially not that spectator."

_And why should it matter to you that she has my attention_ , he thought. More subtly, he said, "What does she expect? She's the only Cardassian woman on this station. She must know she's bound to attract some attention."

"Some, yes. Yours, no.”

He liked where this was headed. After the cheering died down from Kira’s on-the-ground save, he pressed on: "Perhaps I should say hello after the game."

"That's Gul Dukat's daughter.” The Doctor was really starting to sound exasperated now. “And I can't think of anyone in the galaxy who hates you more than he does. Besides, Ziyal is a friend of Kira's. I wouldn't play around with her if I were you."

And now it was time to turn it around. "I simply thought it would be polite to say hello. But clearly, you think I'm incapable of conducting any kind of pleasant discourse without some kind of nefarious ulterior motive." He'd missed arguing with the Doctor far more than he'd allowed himself to acknowledge.

"That's not what I meant. I just think you should leave well enough alone. Why stir up-"

"Yes! Well played!” The crowd erupted as the winning point was scored. “Brava, Major!"

The Doctor glanced around, "What happened?"

"A brilliant move on the part of the Major. You should have been paying attention."

It was good to have things finally return to normal.

The match concluded with the Major emerging victorious. Garak kept his eye on Ziyal throughout, and when the crowd dispersed, he ensured that his departure went unnoticed by certain parties. Based on what he'd seen, she'd been nervous, but not poised to act in any way. If she kept that same air about her, he'd wager that Odo was correct.

The Doctor had to return to the infirmary, and they went their separate ways, but not before arranging to get lunch the following week with some recommended reading.

***

In spite of her best efforts, Ziyal couldn't maneuver her way through the crowd to reach Garak after the game. Once again, it was as though he simply vanished. She was kicking herself; she had the perfect opportunity and she let him get away. She should have just gone over to him in the middle of the game.

Such thoughts plagued her for the rest of the day and into evening. She no longer had Kira's painting to hold her attention, so her thoughts continued to revolve around Garak, how she'd missed him at the game, and when she might get another chance.

She did not expect to get another chance so soon.

There he was, at the back of the turbolift. This was it, this was her chance to clear things up. If she didn't take it now, she might not get another one. _Alright_ , she told herself. _Just leave the lift when he does and go from there-_

And then suddenly all other passengers dispersed, and they were alone together.

_Why am I just standing here! Say something! Just start things off, maybe apologize for coming on too strong that first night, or-_

She glanced at him nervously and looked away as quickly as she could when she realized he was looking back.

“You're not going to hurt me, are you?”

She could hardly believe her ears.

“Normally I would simply make a strategic withdrawal at the first sign of trouble, but there doesn't seem to be a way out of here.”

A small smile threatened to turn into a much larger one. So that's how he was going to do things. Joking about the supposed threat they posed to one another. "You could always call security."

"Oh, true. But it would take them a few minutes to arrive, and by then it might be too late."

"I don't think I'll hurt you."

"I'm gratified to hear that."

"In fact, I think it's safe to say you have nothing to fear from me."

The turbolift slowed to a stop and he moved to exit.

"And you, my dear, have nothing to fear from me."

They inclined their heads to one another, and he was gone.

It was short. It was barely a conversation at all. It was, however, progress. And she would further extrapolate that it was an invitation. Without the looming threat of assassination hanging over them, why would he continue to avoid her? She knew that she would actually be able to approach him now.

As much as she wanted to follow him out of the turbolift right then and there, she didn't want to overdo it. She would wait until tomorrow and then go visit him at his shop. She would invite him to the holosuites for the sauna program and they could finally pick up where they left off, finally get to know each other without any baggage getting in the way.

From where she stood, things were finally looking up.

The next day, she had proceeded to his shop to invite him to the sauna as planned, but she was no longer so sure about things moving forward. The self-assuredness that he positively radiated previously was gone the moment she extended the invitation. He boggled at her, seemingly at a loss for words.

"I see. When were you thinking of?"

"Maybe the day after tomorrow, say twenty one hundred?"

An excruciating pause, and then, "I'd be delighted."

"Great. I'll see you there."

"I look forward to it."

She beamed at him as she left, but felt a stab of internal panic. _What was that all about?_ she wondered. He wasn't like that yesterday on the turbolift, and he certainly wasn’t like that when they first met.

There was no sense worrying about it right now, in just two days she was sure to find out. She put it from her mind as she approached Quark at the bar.

"Ziyal! Have any luck finding him?"

She nodded.

"Just what I want to hear. Now, what time can I put you down for?"

She made her arrangements and Quark finally got his latinum. She intended to spend the next few days sorting through all the things she wanted to talk to him about.

***

Garak heard the Ferengi complaining about the lapels. He even responded. But he wasn’t really listening.

Odo had been wrong. Terribly wrong, and he was constantly reviewing what Ziyal’s invitation really meant and what he was going to do about it.

She had invited him to meet her at a Cardassian sauna. She, the granddaughter of a man he had killed and child of a man whose career he relished chiseling away at whenever he had the chance. She who, until recently, he believed to be carrying on the family grudge and exacting revenge.

In Cardassian novels which featured vengeance and the restoration of honor, saunas were a popular motif. More than a motif. It was practically a cliché.

In practice, today’s modern saunas were social spaces for relaxation; a comfortable environment to gather with friends or family. Historically, their purpose had been much more utilitarian. Cardassian physiology being what it was, colder temperatures had a wide range of negative effects. Mild cold temperatures lead to discomfort and sluggishness. Sustained lower temperatures would slow down one’s metabolism and stress the body, making it harder to fight infections. In colder climates, saunas were constructed as a solution. Saunas were often located at the edge of town in the days before transporters in order to warm one up quickly after a day’s commute before continuing on. Occupations which would otherwise keep one outside all day would have a sauna on site for warm-ups throughout the day.

Symbolically, they were seen as a place in which balance was restored. An external force imposed itself, and causes you harm; you go to the sauna to return your body, your life to the status quo. Exacting revenge in such an environment was an image conjured up in literature for centuries now.

It was all so _obvious_. Saying "I'm going to murder you in the holosuites," was the only way she could have been more direct about it.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as Major Kira shoved him into the wall. Really, hadn’t she made her point last time?

"Listen closely. I don't know what kind of sick game it is you're playing with Ziyal, but it'd better stop and it better stop right now."

Such bravado. She had to know that Ziyal was the one initiating things. "I can assure you, Major, I have-"

"I don't want to hear any of your lies. Now, that girl is here under my protection and I swear if you do anything to hurt her, I will make you regret it. Is that clear?"

"As Tabalian glass."

"Good." And she marched out.

Perhaps Major Kira had inspired Ziyal’s lack of subtlety.

Quark continued to prattle on, apparently knowing half the details of their meeting. Garak played along, revealing nothing the bartender couldn’t have guessed on his own. Once again, Garak started mulling over Ziyal’s choice of holosuite program. Quark’s speculations as to whether Ziyal was trying to kill him or not were entirely tuned out, and he was so absorbed that Quark's "Nah, it's too complicated," went entirely unnoticed.

***

She'd spent months attempting to make herself as non-threatening at possible. She'd gone over polite conversation topics in her head for the past several days. She'd fussed over her outfit for no small amount of time, trying to make sure she wasn't sending the wrong message. But how did Garak start things off.

"Why am I here?"

"Excuse me?" She could have laughed at that moment.

"Why am I here? Am I to believe that you've invited the sworn enemy of your father simply to enjoy the heat?"

_That's it,_ she thought _, I've waited patiently. I've done everything I possibly can to be normal. I shouldn't have to prove that I'm not trying to kill anyone when I'm not trying to kill anyone! If you won't give me the benefit of the doubt by now, to hell with you._

She stifled her desire to yell all of this at him. Instead, she channeled her anger into issuing one final cool-headed ultimatum.

"You really think I asked you here to kill you? Well, it did occur to me."

_Or at least it's occurring to me right now_ , she thought.

"Kira and my father both told me that you used to be an agent of the Obsidian Order. That you had my grandfather tortured and killed, and that you could easily kill me without a second thought."

"Although I seldom credit the Major or your father with being entirely trustworthy, in this case they're both telling the truth." His expression revealed nothing.

"You know what else is true? I don't care. I'm half-Bajoran and that means I'm an outcast back home. I can't go back and neither can you. So we can either share some time together or we can ignore each other. I spent five years in a prisoner of war camp by myself. I don't need your company,” she said, letting the smallest bit of emotion creep into her voice. “But if you'd like to stay and share the heat with me, maybe tell me something about home that I don't know, then I would welcome your company. And I get the feeling you would welcome mine. Either way, it's up to you."

_There,_ she thought. _If he gets a clue and we can be friends, great. If not, it's his loss, not mine. I'm done playing this stupid game. Nerys was right._ Nevertheless, her heart was racing, completely uncertain as to what he was going to do. It seemed to her that time was passing as slow as it possibly could, just to keep her waiting longer.

***

Garak felt no such tension. Instead, this little speech served only to clarify. Ziyal had spent their first meeting intermittently lying to him. The lies had been transparent, and the false self she had been projecting wasn't terribly convincing. In all of their other encounters, she had been nervous, and their interactions had been too brief to be certain of what she wanted.

Now, there was nothing but absolute sincerity. And he was sure of it too; what good was an interrogator who didn't know when he had the truth? For some unfathomable reason, this young woman wanted to spend time with him. In spite of everything she knew about him, she still wanted to get to know him better. And he had no idea why.

"Well, it seems I won't be needing this anymore."

He set the previously concealed disruptor down. Her desire to befriend him against her better judgment (against everyone's better judgment, probably) indicated one thing: she was someone worth talking to. Clearly she kept an open mind if she wanted to be on good terms with him, her father, and Major Kira all at the same time. He joined Ziyal on the rock and reclined.

"So, what shall we talk about first?"

A bright, genuine smile overtook her face before her expression resumed a slightly more composed look. "Let me start by saying that I'm sorry for lying to you."

"My dear, you'll find that lying to me is never something worth apologizing for."

She laughed a little at that, “I wanted you to know that I don’t normally do that. It’s just that I knew I’d have a hard time fitting in here, so thought I’d spend some time with people who wouldn’t be sticking around for very long. I didn’t think I’d hit it off with someone who lived here.”

“And were you right about not fitting in?”

“Yes. When I first got here it was just like I thought it would be. Most Bajorans treated me with contempt. Those with the Federation usually kept their distance because of the political climate. Anyone else didn’t bother with me.”

“And is that still the case?”

“I think it’s getting better, but things still have a ways to go. How do you deal with it? You might not be related to the Prefect of Bajor, but I can’t imagine you have it much easier here.”

“Substance abuse.”

She blinked, and then gave a little smile, “You’re joking.”

He inclined his head, “Quite. Aside from occupying myself with a wide variety of solitary hobbies, my work, and the rare trip to a docking ring bar, I have a few acquaintances here that I share the occasional meal with.”

“Do you think we might be able to have lunch together sometime?”

“Yes, I think that could be arranged.”

“I’d like that,” she said. “Can I ask why you avoided me for so long?"

"Because until just now I couldn't be sure that you weren't trying to kill me."

She frowned, "Well then what was the point of that conversation on the turbolift?"

"Yes, that conversation was intended to mend things, but then you invited me to a sauna." He gestured around them, "One of the most popular locations to assassinate your sworn enemies, if Cardassian literature is to be believed."

Alarm quickly turned into irritation and she muttered something that sounded like “Quark.”

“What’s that?”

“I had no idea. I’m sorry...I wouldn’t gotten this program if I’d known that.”

“That’s quite alright. I’m sure you’ll have a better grasp of what one can expect from Quark now.”

“Speaking of literature...Could you help me with my Kardasi?”

“You can’t read it?” he asked with polite curiosity.

“Only basic stuff. I’m good enough with Bajoran. I had a good grasp of it before the ship crashed and for the most part it’s been easy to pick up where I left off. Kardasi, on the other hand...I was behind on that before I left. Mother couldn’t read it, and Father wasn’t exactly the best teacher. I think most ten year olds can probably read better than I can.” She looked a bit sheepish.

“Why not rely on the computer to translate for you? That’s what most everyone does, and they don’t have the excuse of being cut off from civilization for half a decade.”

“Whenever my father writes to me, it’s in Kardasi.”

“On those grounds alone I should refuse,” he said.

“It’s not just that! I’ve been trying to study up on a whole bunch of Cardassian subjects, especially art. But I end up wasting a lot of time because I rarely know the names of things that I’m looking for, and direct translations don’t always fit. And I’d like to read more fiction too, and not have the subtleties be lost on me. Who knows what sort of cultural trap I’ll blunder into next if I don’t start making up for lost time.”

“That is a far more admirable goal. I would be delighted.”

He had brought a PADD with him and constructed some simple sentences to test what she could and couldn’t read. As it turned out, she wasn’t as far behind as she thought. She did have a ways to go before she could read and appreciate any of his favorite novels, but the groundwork that had been established before she was stuck in the camp was still firm. Building her vocabulary was really what she needed.

He took the opportunity to examine her cultural knowledge as well, working Cardassian locations, idioms, and ideas into the sample sentences he presented to her. She often paused in her reading to ask questions, as he expected she would. And, naturally, answering one question would often prompt another.

When they exited the holosuite a time later, they had loosely arranged a course of study. He planned to find some reading materials for her and they would meet the following week to go over them.

"And if you find yourself stuck with something, don't hesitate to stop by my shop."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to bother you at work."

"I doubt that I would be so busy I can't answer a few questions. My customers are perhaps less demanding than I initially made them seem."

She smiled at that. "Thank you. For giving me a chance, I mean. It took you a while," her eyes flashed momentarily, "but I'm glad we can be friends now."

"And I'm glad there will soon be one more person on this station who is familiar with the works of Preloc. Till next week then."

She looked a bit tense, as though she was deciding something. Then she flew forward and embraced him. He thought back to the night they’d met, and how she’d kissed him and how that was not, in retrospect, a very sloppy attempt at seduction with his demise as the goal. It had been genuine. Best to nip this in the bud, lest she believe that he felt the same way. So he gently removed her arms and instead pressed their palms together.

"Perhaps you encountered this gesture in your brief time on Cardassia?"

She grinned apologetically, "Goodbye."

He inclined his head, and they went their separate ways.

She had been pleasant. He wasn’t expecting that. Growing up away from her father must have done wonders for her personality. He found himself actually looking forward to these study sessions. They offered him a glimpse of home and a camaraderie he couldn’t get from anyone else while still trapped here.

It was a curious turn of events, he reflected. He would have to relate as much to the Doctor at their next lunch.

***

Back in her quarters, Ziyal was grinning from ear to ear.

Her eyes settled on the empty easel, so recently the home of Kira’s painting. Nerys had been right, she reflected. Things were slowly but surely getting better.

Nerys was right about something else too. He had been _this close_ to remaining convinced that she was trying to kill him. Everything was okay for now, but who knew when she would misstep again and do or say something that was a secret code for "I will destroy you." If he changed his mind again, she was going to have to give up on this friendship. Trying to prove to him that she didn’t want to kill him had been exhausting and she wasn’t going to do it all over a second time.

She asked the computer to comm Kira, who responded shortly, "Quark said you left the holosuites nearly 30 minutes ago. Are you alright?"

"Yes, and I think you can stop tracking my movements via Quark now," she said in amused irritation. "How does he stay in business if he doesn't keep things private?"

"He'll tell you anything if you pay him well enough, but all I wanted to know was when I should be monitoring the holosuites for disruptor bursts."

This was getting more ridiculous by the second. She half-laughed, "Thanks for your vote of confidence."

"Well? There weren't any weapons discharged, so I'm sure you're safe, but what happened?"

"It went really well, I finally got through to him, and he's going to help me learn more written Kardasi. I’ll be able to correspond with my father a little more easily."

"Ah. Well, that's good then." Kira wasn’t great at covering her disappointment, Ziyal realized.

"But I was thinking that I might like to meet some of your friends anyways."

"Oh, great, let me see when Dax is available," she said, suddenly much more enthusiastic. “Will next week work?”

***

"So she just wants to be friends with you?" the Doctor asked with polite curiosity.

"Is it so incredible to think that someone might enjoy my company?"

"I’m just surprised that her father didn’t try to use her to get to you."

"Why Doctor, I’m impressed."

"And why might that be?"

"You seem to be embracing what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. That the ‘benefit of the doubt’ you seem to offer to most everyone is a waste of time at best, and a hazard to oneself and others at worst."

"I hardly think that judging Dukat's behavior towards you as treacherous is indicative of how I view the universe,” the Doctor said, with only a hint of defensiveness. “It's not as though it's a secret that you're enemies, and the man has proven himself unscrupulous so many times that even I take notice. That doesn't mean that I paint everyone with the same brush."

"It pains me that you're still so firmly in denial, but this is a step in the right direction nonetheless. Here I was thinking that you were trying to tell me something with the book you loaned me after the springball match. It was so full of revenge, deceit, and consequentialism, I thought it an indication that you'd seen the error of your ways. "

"Then that's twice in one week you've misunderstood someone because of literature. I gave you _The Count of Monte Cristo_ because I thought you might it prefer it over Shakespeare."

"You would be hard-pressed to find an author less to my taste than William Shakespeare."

"Is that a challenge?"

Garak ignored the remark. "It was an improvement over some of your other recommendations, however, _Monte Cristo_ wasn't without its faults. It was all going along so well, but then in the final chapters Dantes starts expressing remorse for what he’d done. Really, it’s quite distasteful.”

“His actions got an innocent bystander killed, of course he feels guilty about it.” 

“On the contrary, Edward was killed by his mother, and the Count is in no way responsible for her senseless actions. His death was unfortunate, of course. But if Dantes had the conviction to carry out such elaborate plans, he wouldn’t let himself be derailed by the actions of another.”

“He was imagining himself as an agent of divine justice, enforcing god’s will. It’s only natural that he’s shaken when someone dies that he hasn’t accounted for.”

On they went, debating, discussing and very occasionally agreeing, as though making up for lost time. They were so engrossed that Nurse Tagana had to call the Doctor to remind him that his lunch break was over. They agreed to continue the conversation next week and parted.

And for now, that was enough.

***

"I had no idea that Trill memories were so vivid,” Ziyal said. “I assumed things would be a little hazy for them after hundreds of years, but Jadzia seemed to recall it all so clearly when she was talking about past hosts."

"That's why she can relate to people so easily," Kira replied.

"I can see why you wanted me to meet her," Ziyal said with a smirk. "Are all of your friends are so insightful?"

"No. I'm not sure there's anyone in this quadrant with as much self-awareness as Dax. But I think you'll get along with the others just fine,” she said, as they arrived at Ziyal’s quarters. “Do you want to meet them and find out?”

“Sure, just let me know what time works for them,” she said, and turned in for the night.

Keeping the lights dim, she deftly moved over to the replicator. She spared a glance at Kira’s clay bird and offered it a smile while she waited for her tea to materialize.

Pulling a chair over to the window, she settled in to watch the stars. The ambient hum of the station whispered away all remaining tension as she sat in the patch of gentle illumination.

She blew across the surface of her tea. This time, she was content to finish it.


End file.
